#my sister is annoying me as of doing this
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In the name of science I'm gonna say stuff. In the name of sanity I'm putting a cut here.
Let's get it out of the way, Anders is from Kinloch Hold and I am a Circle mage appreciator first and a person second. I was never going to not like Anders.
Anders is always interesting to think about, which is the best thing a fictional character can be. If Anders was a real living person, then uhhhhhhhh oh god I'm so sorry. But he's fake and made up, so all his traumas and issues and mental illnesses and ways in which he sucks and is very annoying are all just compelling.
And let's be very honest: Anders is very very frequently very very annoying. In DA2 he's not capable of shutting up about the plight of mages (and he shouldn't. Go boy go) even when it's extremely not the time for it, but for me the worse crime is how he behaves in Awakening specifically about and towards women. Like he's so bad in Awakening I don't think enough people remember that but he hits on Mhairi on sight, he hits on you if you're playing a female character, and he hits on Velanna's missing sister who Velanna has recently murdered tens of people in her desperate attempt to find. It's not even good flirting it's very bad flirting.
And I GET IT. I get what the writing is trying to, okay no I'm not getting into that lmao it's not relevant. Anyways,
I'm also pro-Anders because abominations are cool and fun and spirits/demons are cool and fun.
I'm also pro-Anders because he's a healer and that means I don't have to spec into healing.
I'm also pro-Anders because I love a tragedy and a downward spiral.
And, just for the sake of "mass murder is bad", I don't have a dragon age leg to stand on; do you know how many people my HoF choked in Death Clouds??
Okay hi! This is going to be skewed if it's just the people following me voting, please reblog this poll If you'd be so kind so it gets as far away from my bubble as possible 🙇
No nuance! You gotta pick one, but feel free to talk about your reasoning in the tags xx (the clipboard I'm holding is for science and statistic purposes not moral compass or taste judging)
#Reblogging this to put a (fun nonviolent teasing) gun to Torrie's head#You gotta pick#(picture me grinning shittily from Kinloch Hold)#aging dragons#This is a poll#Sorry Torrie#The one actual criticism of Anders that I have is now we have to find some other collective noun to use for people from the Anderfels#ALSO did you know that Anders is an actual Scandinavian variant of Andrew/Andreas???
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I’ve got you!
Based on the following ask: I want fluffy romance
It’s an Aaron Hotchner x reader (lmao daddy issues on fleek) anyways
I’d like to see like romantic tension building between them like it begins small but slowly gets bigger and it isn’t until reader gets into trouble (like say almost drowning because she never learned how to swim like my dumbass) that Aaron almost loses it a little and saved reader which makes him end up confessing to each other and they get together and it’s just fluffy romance because as much as I love the smutty stuff, I crave fluff so badly for my poor heart and for Aaron because baby deserves comfort too. Anyways Love you gorgeous
Aaron Hotchner x BAU! Fem Reader
Angst/Fluff
Word count: 2533
REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!
Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, SLOW BURN, Age gap (non-specified), some explicit language, reader can’t swim, no use of y/n, Fem reader, reader has no physical description, canon typical violence, reader almost drowns, mention of Jack, Beth never existed in this okay!, mention of hospitals, team calls reader flower as a nickname! let me know if I missed any!
I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.
Your first impression of Aaron Hotchner was at a lecture at your university. Jason Gideon had been leading the BAU and Hotch had just been an agent at the time, but you had been captivated by his intelligence and the way he carried himself. He was so confident and had this strength about him that drew you in. Not in a romantic way though!
At least that’s what you told yourself.
--
Aaron’s first impression of you was when you had been hired onto the team through Director Cruz. Mateo had brought you along with your file and handed you off to Aaron, informing him that you’d be joining the BAU effective immediately.
Initially Aaron was annoyed, this kind of thing hadn’t always worked out in his favor, having agents assigned to his team without his approval but, looking at you and your impressive file, he knew he had to give you a shot.
Glancing over to you he took note of your beauty. It wasn’t the obvious fake filter-like beauty, but something more natural. You had this air of warmth that radiated off of you, it was the type of energy that just made you feel comfortable around someone. He couldn’t help but think that if he’d met you some other way, that maybe he’d have asked you out.
--
Things between you and Aaron had progressed organically. The two of you had grown pretty close, being one another’s confidant within the team. You weren’t together, but the amount of time you two spent together suggested otherwise.
It all happened pretty quickly.
--
“Does Hotch always stay late?” You asked.
“Uh, yeah pretty much.” Emily laughed.
“What about Jack? He doesn’t go home to be with him? I mean…I, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean that to sound judgy, I just meant like doesn’t he want to go home?” You stuttered.
“I’m sure he wants to go home to Jack. His sister-in-law watches Jack when he can’t, but since Strauss died, they gave Hotch a lot of additional responsibilities for this team. Things that Cruz never took back on, so he has nearly double the workload now that he did back then.” Derek explained.
You stood there stunned to silence as the others packed their bags to head home for the evening. You hadn’t even noticed them making their way to the elevator.
“Aren’t you coming?” JJ questioned.
“You know, I just remembered I forgot to get the file for that case we had in Minnesota back to Hotch. He’ll be pissed if I don’t turn it in before our days off.” You lied.
“Do you want us to wait?” Spencer asked.
“No, you guys go ahead! Enjoy your weekend!”
You sat back down at your desk, attempting to make yourself look busy while the other piled into the elevator. Once the doors had closed you made your way up to his office…unable to hear the others…
“She’s got it bad.” Derek teased.
“So does he.” Rossi confirmed.
You gently knocked on his office door and waited for him to permit your entry. Once he did, you pushed the door open slightly and peaked in, waiting for him to acknowledge your presence.
“Oh hey, what are you still doing here? I figured you’d have left with the others.” Aaron let a slight smile slip past his lips.
“I was going to, but you’re still here. It didn’t feel right going home for the weekend while you are still here working your ass off.”
“I’m the boss, I’m always here working my ass off. Head home, enjoy the time off. Seriously.” Aaron suggested.
“How about instead, I do whatever I can to help you get through your work a little faster and I order dinner for us. Would you prefer tacos or Thai food?” You pulled up your maps app to see restaurants that were nearby.
“You should-”
“Don’t even try to argue with me Hotch.” You threatened.
“Tacos.”
“Perfect.”
--
That night you helped Aaron double-check the case reports and cross reference them to make sure they were all filed properly. It allowed him some extra time to complete some administrative work and when your food arrived, the two of you sat and laughed while enjoying your tacos.
--
Garcia, Emily, and JJ were all clutching their temples while chugging down coffee in hopes to alleviate their hangovers.
Spencer and Derek couldn’t help but chuckle at the girls and the fact that they chose to drink far too much last night, knowing full well they’d need to be up early to cheer on their fearless leader as he completed the annual FBI triathlon.
Dave waved to the others notifying them that he could see Aaron coming around the last corner.
“Wait where’s flower at?” Derek asked.
The team looked around to see if they could spot you, knowing that you would never miss this, given how close you and Aaron had become. Dave chuckled to himself and pointed over to where you were standing with Jack on your shoulders as he held up a large glittering sign.
Everyone cheered as Aaron crossed the finish line only, he didn’t stop to greet the team. He made his was straight to you and Jack, he assisted him in getting down off your shoulders and complimented the beautiful poster he had made.
“I had some help!” Jack replied, gently grabbing your hand.
You’d smile and wish Aaron a job well done.
The team would just watch from afar and wonder how the two of you could be so incredibly oblivious to the love you so obviously shared for one another.
--
“Wooo go Jack!” You cheered.
Aaron couldn’t help but chuckle at you, genuinely loving the bond you’d established with his son. It had started when Jack needed to spend a day at the BAU and you’d gone out of your way to get him snacks and print a few coloring pages for him. It had shifted to something deeper than that not long after. Jack would ask if you could come to the park with them or if you could help him with the poster for his dad or, like today for instance, if you could come to his soccer game.
You had packed up a cooler bag full of drinks and snacks for the three of you. Dressed in a simple T-shirt and jeans, Aaron had never thought you looked better. You’d been so casual and comfortable, and when you hopped in the passenger seat of his car that morning something stirred in Aaron. A feeling he wasn’t sure he was ready to feel again, let alone give in to.
“Did you see that? I made a goal!” Jack hollered running over to your waiting embrace.
“I did buddy, you were incredible out there!” You praised.
“Dad, can we all go get lunch now? And maybe then we can go see the new spiderman movie?” Jack pleaded.
“Oh – bud I don’t, I uh. I’m not sure that’s a good –” Aaron fumbled.
“I would love to, as long as it’s not an imposition.” You smiled.
“It’s not! An imposition, I mean.” Aaron clarified.
“Well then! What do you want for lunch Jack?” You asked.
You’d spent the rest of the day with the Hotchner boys, going to lunch and then seeing a movie. Which led to you offering to make them dinner, and building Legos with Jack, and then a nightcap with Aaron. He’d offered you his guestroom and then to drive you home first thing and given that you were both tipsy…you were quick to agree.
What you hadn’t expected was breakfast. He and Jack had gone all out with chocolate chip pancakes…things were feeling a little too domestic. When had things gotten so comfortable?
--
As the feeling stirred in both you and Aaron, you had begun to notice all the little things you did for one another. Things that had just become natural for you both in the time you’d known each other, second nature at this point.
You always slid sticky notes in your case files before turning them in to him. Sometimes they’d contain a doodle of something silly or a quote you’d read somewhere that made you think of him. What you didn’t know is he saved them all. They were tucked away in the back of his desk drawer, a neat pile of multicolored paper, serving as a reminder of how happy you made him.
Aaron shared similar antics…only his served in the form of your favorite tea, left on your desk each morning before the others arrived so they wouldn’t know it was him placing it there. Though they all had their suspicions anyway. Every once in while…usually after tough cases, or if he knew you hadn’t eaten dinner – which he’d know because you’d fall asleep mid-conversation via text – he’d leave a chocolate croissant…your favorite.
--
Aaron had almost let his feelings slip once. Dave had caught the internal battle that Aaron was facing, he wore it as a pained expression and tense shoulders. Dave had reassured him that you were alright and there was no need to worry, only that didn’t help much. You had gotten hurt, and that only proved that it could happen again. This was a dangerous job full of pain and suffering. Aaron realized he couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt.
You had been away on a case; the team had found the unsub and were closing in on him. You had rounded a corner in your chase and came face to face with the man you were after, and he had gotten the upper hand. He’d gotten a few good punches in and knocked you on your ass. Aaron had been quick to return the favor once he caught up.
That is when this need to protect you had grown all consuming. Aaron decided then to offer to train with you, in the hope of improving your self-defense skills a little more. And that is where you found yourself on Thursday evenings. Aaron and you would go to the FBI gym and train for about an hour before going to dinner.
This tradition sort of kept going…it sort of progressed from self-defense training to just working out together. An excuse really, an easy way of spending more time together without it looking too suspicious.
--
Dave had pushed Aaron time and time again, practically begging him to ask you out once and for all. To which Aaron always had the same reply; “She doesn’t feel that way about me and even if she did, it wouldn’t be appropriate”.
“You must be blind if you don’t see how much she cares about you. Or perhaps I was wrong about you being such a skilled profiler.” Dave chided.
“Excuse me?” Aaron was stunned.
“She is in love with you Aaron. You’d have to be an idiot to not realize, and even worse to keep yourselves from the happiness you both deserve.” Dave scolded.
Aaron sat with that for some time…wondering if Dave was right. Maybe enough was enough.
--
This case started out fine…but would quickly become both yours and Aaron’s worst nightmare.
This particular unsub had been murdering people with seemingly no connection. Disposing of their bodies at the South Coast Shipyard in Newport Beach, California.
The team had been working for days, trying to catch this guy. He was meticulous and stuck to his MO, not straying from his routine even the slightest. Spencer had suggested that he might have OCD.
That is what led you guys to the shipyard to try and corner him. Catch him in the act. You’d been on edge about being so close to the water…truthfully you’d always been afraid of it. And one night in a drunken stupor, you’d let it slip to Aaron that you’d never learned how to swim.
So, when Derek shouted out that you were FBI and Mathias Edwards took off running, you’d been a little nervous to chase after him. You’d do your job as expected…but there was a sick feeling in your stomach as you sprinted on the creaky dock.
It was just you Derek and Aaron at the docks, you had been checking things out, knowing that he’d likely be scoping out the area to see what boats were docked so he could find his next dumpsite. You hadn’t expected him to be there so early.
The three of you had split up, chasing after Mathias. You, thanks to all the training with Aaron, were quick on your feet, catching up with him quickly. You were running down a long straight on the docks, carefully avoiding any rope or ties holding boats in place when Mathias jumped out from between two boats, shoving you full force backward into the water. You’d immediately screamed, flailing your arms in a desperate attempt to stay above the surface.
Derek had been coming from the other direction and was able to tackle Mathias and was working to get him in cuffs. It wasn’t until Aaron came around that Derek even knew something was wrong.
“Where is she?” Aaron shouted. “Flower, where is she?”
Derek stood up, pulling Mathias to his feet and shoving him in the direction of the SUV. “Mathias pushed her into the water, I figured she’d swim around to the ladder at the end of the dock.”
“She can’t swim!” Aaron panicked, wasting no time jumping in the water to find you.
Moving swiftly, Derek secured the unsub in the SUV before running back to help Aaron get you out of the water. He’d found you quickly dragging you by your arm to the surface and lifting you into Derek’s waiting hands.
He’d checked for your pulse and when he couldn’t feel it, he began chest compressions. Aaron heaved himself out of the water and back on to the dock and pressed his ear to your chest to listen for any kind of breath sounds.
“Go call for a bus!” Aaron commanded.
Aaron took over CPR and leaned down to listen for your heartbeat once more. When he again heard nothing, he attempted mouth-to-mouth. He continued on like this for a few more seconds before you lurched forward, sputtering up the water that had entered your airways. Aaron helped you sit up and pulled you into his embrace.
“Oh, thank God.” Aaron muttered. “I’ve got you sweetheart.”
--
You were taken by ambulance to the nearest hospital. They wanted to check your vitals and run a few tests to make sure you were alright. Aaron had insisted on riding along with you and held your hand the entire way. He was by your side the whole time.
“You can’t do that to me.” He whispered.
“What?” You rasped.
“You can’t scare me like that sweetheart. I don’t know what I’d do if we lost you.” His eyes brimmed with tears.
“The team would be okay.”
“Not them. Me and Jack. We can’t lose you baby. We need you; Jack loves you, hell, I love you too much, I don’t think my heart could take it.” You were both crying now.
“I love you too.”
#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#criminal minds#hotch x reader#hotch x you#aaron hotchner x you#ssa aaron hotchner#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch imagine#hotch#aaron hotch smut#aaron x reader#aaron hotch x you#aaron hotch fic#aaron hotch fluff#aaron hotch angst#aaron hotchner x y/n#hotchner x reader#hotchner smut#hotchner x you#agent hotchner#hotch x y/n#aaron hotchner x female reader#aaron hotchner x fem!reader smut#jack hotchner#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner imagine
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LIGHTWEIGHT
univeristy!au taesan x fem!reader (ft. the rest of bonedo!)
SUMMARY: Meeting Taesan at a basement party doesn't go as planned, what happens when you can't get rid of him? Do you even want to?
GENRE: fluff, slightly suggestive in one chapter, university!au (mentions of fraternities, classes, lectures, dorms, etc.) WARNINGS: Taesan gets punched, he doesn't deserve it but everything is okay | swearing | mentions of moaning but it doesn't get too crazy, reader makes fun of Taesan for it | fem!reader | heavy mentions of alcohol in the first chapter | EXCESSIVE flirting | ends with a confession!! NOTES: I have never been to a frat party. I have never participated in Greek life. I do not drink for personal reasons. I have never dated Han Dongmin (unfortunately). In other words, this is likely very unrealistic because my information comes from speculation, reddit threads, and other fanfics on tumblr dot com. This was so fun to write WC: 16.2k, divided into 6 "chapters" of varying length
RIDE OR DIE
You shift on your twin bed and feel the crinkly sheets shifting under your weight. You glance at the egg-shaped off-white clock on your wobbly, school-provided desk. The clock hits noon, your roommate will be home any minute and you’re hoping to power through the end of this report before then. Since you chose her as your roommate freshman year (because of maybe five instagram messages), Jen’s been your best friend, your literal ride or die, but she’s not the best body-doubling partner for cranking out assignments. When she’s with someone, she needs to provide commentary on whatever's going on, which is both a blessing and a curse. It’s a curse when it comes to being someone’s study partner.
The wooden door opens in an instant, and Jen’s frame appears in the doorway, flanked by about three bags. “Oh, dear roommate!” She greets you in song. She lets the bags fall from her arms with a thunk on the floor, and a couple papers scatter on the floor out of one of many of her partially-zipped backpacks. She marches towards you, waving her phone in your face. “Look at this! One of our sisters invited us to a party Sigma Chi’s is throwing this evening!” She says excitedly before steadying her gaze on you. You back up as a carefully manicured finger stretches out towards your face. “We need to go.” She always refers to her sorority sisters as your (plural) sisters, which you think is sweet. It’s her way of including you. You figure that, at some point, she decided ‘my sisters this, my sisters that’ got a little bit exclusionary.
“No.” You answer her and turn back to your computer, entering the link for a hopefully-penultimate citation. This is the one thing you’re maybe not so “ride-or-die” about with Jen. You like parties, sure, but you aren't going to give up a good night’s sleep (without midterms, and all) so easily.
“What do you mean? It’s going to be so much fun!” She whines. “We just finished our midterms, we need to celebrate! What could you be even working on anyway?”
“There’s a presentation after midterms for some fucking reason, I don’t know. Plus, it's a totally bad idea to bring me. Nothing good happens at frat parties.” You tell her, pointedly. You do this dance with her semi-frequently: she invites you, you say no, she asks why, you say why, she asks again, you (sometimes) give in. You’ve got this waltz down to a science.
“Can you finish it later? Come on, please? You skipped out on the last three.” She looks at you with pleading eyes, ignoring your advice. You wonder if this was how she got everyone to do her bidding; pouting at them with her big brown eyes. You eye her suspiciously. It was true: you had denied her invitation to the last three events and probably the last three hosted by Sigma… what was it? Sigma Key? Whatever. You don’t particularly like most frat boys. In your experience, they tend to be on the annoying side… the very annoying side. The avoid-at-all-costs side.
You look at her as a smile grows on your face, “Will you do my laundry for a week when we get back from break?” At this point, you were considering going anyway, but you were going to try and milk it.
“And I’ll take out the trash.” She smiles back. Now… maybe hanging out in a dingy basement flanked by drunk college kids doesn’t sound that bad, right?
“Promise?”
She raises her hand as if to be sworn in to lawyerhood—or whatever they call it. “I, your loving, adoring roommate, solemnly swear to do your laundry and take out the trash for two weeks when we get back from break.” You suppress a laugh.
“What time is the party?” Satisfied, you surrender, albeit happily. She does manual labor for a couple weeks and you only have to go with her for a couple hours? Sounds like a dream.
“11pm.”
BUDDING ALCOHOLIC
The faint taste of tequila on your lips is your only reminder of your promise not to get the fuck out of dodge. If you hadn’t pregamed this party, you would have been regretting coming right about now, even if it means two weeks worth of chores being eliminated from your future. The music is noise-complaint worthy and not that good, even as far as frat music tends to go. Your best guess for timing is that it’s about midnight, and a couple of your peers are already drunk by the looks of it, making out by the window and stumbling on the grass out front. It already smells like vomit as you walk through the front door. To be fair, you’ve never been to a frat house in the daytime, so maybe the smell of vomit is just a permanent feature.
“You’re the best! Thanks for coming!” She swings an arm around you, at least a little tipsy. You shift in your Jen-approved outfit: a (very) tight black tank top, light-wash jeans, and a pair of Jen-borrowed, frat-designated, almost-destroyed sneakers. You’ve gathered from your brief excursions into the world of Greek life that this is the frat uniform.
“Hey, Jen-fer!” A guy, clearly a brother, comes up to the two of you with a cheeky smile on his face. It seems like every time someone greets Jen, she has a new nickname. Or maybe he’s just drunk and slurring his words. The guy looks like “people call me Chad but you can call me tonight” personified in his khaki shorts and impressively only slightly wrinkled t-shirt, sporting your school’s mascot with ‘VARSITY BASEBALL’ across it in loud, chunky lettering. “Who’s this?” He inquires as a girl swings her arm around his neck. The smile never leaves his face as he leans down to peck her. You watch as the girl and Jen have some sort of telepathic conversation by exchanging big smiles and little waves — she’s a sister, maybe? You really only know the girls that Jen’s closest to: Madelin (spelled like mandolin), Avery (who you thought was a boy for a couple months because you only know one other Avery, a boy), Elliann (whose name you remember how to spell only because you wrote Ellyanne once and you got a talking-to), and Gene (whose contact you have saved as the jeans emoji).
“Ugh, Jay! She’s my roommate, I told you about her.” You smile weakly as she points her attention towards you, “this is Jay. You remember Jay, right? From Econ?”
“Yeah… from Econ.” You mumble something unconvincing because you very much do not remember Jay from Econ. There are about a million Jay’s at this school. There’s Jason’s and James’s and Jongseong’s and Joshua’s and Julian’s who all go by Jay. Hell, there’s even a Jachariah (pronounced exactly like Zachariah but substitute the Z) who goes by Jay in your English Comp class. You think it would make sense to go by Jack (Like Zack) because there are less Jack’s, somehow, but whatever. When you return from zoning out, Jen starts talking at you. Some people are touchy drunks, some people are sad drunks, but Jen is a very, very talkative drunk. To be honest, she’s a talkative sober too.
She asks you to choose between the two drinks in her outstretched hands, naming both, though you can’t identify the taste or ingredients either, even with the name provided. Both looked like water.
Fuck it, what’s the difference? “Um, that one.” You say, pointing to the red cup in her right hand.
“Great! Are you okay on your own? I’m going to talk to Ellen!” She smiles big. Who’s Ellen? You have no idea. “Oh, hey! Meet my friend —hic! This is Tay!” She waves to someone behind you, and beckons them over with a finger. Great, now you have a Tae to keep track of. Her goodbye is sonorous, “Bye bye!”
“Bye, Jen-fer.” You tease her with the drawling nickname, but she doesn’t seem to notice as she waltzes off. You break into a slow smile as you see her leave. If you could remember what feeling sober is like, you would know by the drowsiness alone you’re a little more than tipsy. If Jen is a talkative drunk, you’re a sleepy drunk. You take a big swig of the red cup and it burns as it goes down, making you cough instinctively to get rid of the sensation. After taking a moment to compose, you shotgun the whole cup. Aside from the burning, you’re left with the distinctive aftertaste of artificial sweeteners sticking to your throat.
You back up a little, and bump right into a wall. You curse, thinking you probably looked stupid doing that… that is, before you nearly jump out of your skin when the wall puts a hand on your shoulder. Sufficiently scared, you jump right back to where you started like a tennis ball.
In your inebriation, you're pretty sure it might be the worst mistake of your life to look at the wall when you land eyes on the definitely-not-plaster you bumped into.
You realize that she was saying Tae, not Tay. Tae, though you know him as Taesan, is the name of a—kinda emo—guy in your World Literature class who you decided was cute one time when zoning out in a lecture and have been a little shy around ever since. Why is he here? A frat does not seem like his scene. Your drunk self agrees with your sober self on the former issue, however. He is cute—really cute. His hair is straight and black and his bangs fall just above his eyebrows. You were definitely catastrophizing, because bumping into Taesan is maybe the best thing you could have hoped for at this Greek-whatever party.
“Oh… it’s Taesan!” It doesn’t even cross your mind to suppress the giant grin that spreads across your face as you say his name as you sway. “Can I call you that instead of Tae? Too many ay’s around, I think.” You mumble, feeling as cloudy as ever.
He shrugs, “Sure, I mean, I call you by your full name, usually.”
Mostly ignoring him, you continue, focusing on the way the edges of his lips curl like he’s suppressing a smile. Squinting at him, you monologue. “You’re cute. But you’re bad at…” You squint harder, circling your finger in front of his face as if to cast a spell. He looks a little confused with his straight eyebrows raised, but he doesn’t look scared—yet. If you were in your right mind, you would have been amazed and totally terrified that you hadn’t scared him off with the wiggly finger. Maybe the slipped compliment at the beginning helped build some rapport? “You’re bad at… analysis.” You decide on pinpointing a weakness of his. Now, his analysis is actually pretty good. Sure, he's not going to win any awards with it, but who is in an undergraduate World Literature class taught by a less-than-enthusiastic professor nearing retirement? The alcoholic fog is just a little much, anyway. Maybe you’re more of a lightweight than you care to admit.
“I think my analysis is pretty good, actually.” He frowns, but doesn’t seem offended in the slightest. He’s always quiet in lecture, you’re surprised he hasn’t made a quick excuse to get away yet.
You part your lips as you squint harder and point up at his face again, grasping for words that don’t come all that easy to you. “You… should kiss me.” As the words fall out of your mouth, he seems to look around a little bit in surprise. To your luck, he still doesn’t run screaming.
It’s his turn to point a finger at himself and his cool, bad-boy act slips, “kiss—kiss me?” He stutters, going wide-eyed and glancing around like this is a big reality TV-style prank and there are cameramen waiting in the shadows of this sticky, stinky basement, itching to catch him off guard. Perhaps you’re subconsciously practicing rejection therapy.
“Yeah… you should analyze kissing me.” You attempt a smile as you try to keep your eyes open. The music is pounding in your ears as you stare into the gap between him and the wall to his left.
Still dumbfounded, he tries to find words, now staring at you staring off into space, “well, uh… you… that would be cool, but… I don’t… I don’t think you actually want to kiss me. You smell like tequila.” The alcohol is definitely taking its toll on you, evidenced by the way you lean forward and slump onto the boy in front of you, closing your eyes. His words don’t even go in one ear and out the other, they go over your head entirely. You could feel his body heat even through his thick navy tee. You hear his heartbeat and—you’re no medical student—it’s loud. With your eyes closed, you hear the DJ switch the song to something with less bass and you feel a warm hand come to your shoulder blade, patting it awkwardly. You hear an attempt at words coming from his vocal chords, but you hear nothing identifiable as human language. Just a few um’s and maybe an uh.
“Hey, Tae!” You hear Jen approach behind you, calling out to the boy who you’ve designated as your new mattress. You open your eyes for a second, and you’re kindly greeted with a view of his chest. Slowly analyzing your field of vision (which includes a fuzzy wall and his shirt), you blink once, twice, and then, the third time you close them, they stay closed. As fast as that, you’re gone: disappeared, asleep.
Before you can open your eyes again, you’re assaulted by a pounding headache. You haven’t felt a headache like this since the first time you got drunk with Jen. You’d assumed you’d learned your lesson. This time, it’s not a good thing that you exceeded your own expectations.
You open your eyes and see a rather unwelcome sight of Jen who has her hands on your shoulders, shaking you. It’s certainly not helping your headache. As you come to consciousness, you become aware of the damp, suffocating sweat that clings to your body and the aching that you feel in each and every of your muscles and joints. You can’t even lift a finger.
“Hey. Wake up! Don’t worry, you’re not dying. It’s just a hangover.” She consoles you, but she doesn’t stop pushing you, however. “You drank way too much.” She laughs, drawing out her words and turning her head to the side as her hair falls in front of her face.
You muster your words, “what?” Your voice is grainy and low. You feel like pure, unadulterated hell. The pounding in your head doesn’t stop, it just migrates from one side to the other. Back to left to front to right and back again like a cue ball bouncing around the table.
“You… are… hung… over.” She says like she's trying to teach a baby to say mama. You groan and roll over, freeing yourself from her manicured hands and burying your head in your sheets. As you roll over, you feel the familiar and deeply uncomfortable scratch of the seam of your jeans. You were still wearing the clothes you wore to the party, hooray! “And,” she continues, “you’re going to tell me why Han Taesan is at our door.” Her voice sounds half like she’s scolding you and half like she’s waiting for you to spill. Processing this information, you scrunch your eyes and groan again.
“He’s not.” You deny with a murmur despite the knocking that you hear on the door. The person at the door, reportedly Taesan, knocks one, two, three times.
“He is. He wants to know how you are… tell me what happened between you two!” She urges.
“You’re lying. He is not at the door.” Maybe if you say it enough he’ll go away. Manifesting, you know? You want to know nothing about why he’s here. The party last night was a blur. You remember drinking, seeing a couple familiar faces, bumping into Taesan and then it’s dark and you wake up in your bed with Jen shaking you.
“He is.” She says solemnly. She cocks her head and continues in a more sympathetic tone, “do you want me to tell him to go away?” She asks.
“Yes.” Regardless of whether you want to see him, specifically, you don’t want to see anyone at all. You’re still in your clothes from last night, your whole body hurts, you feel like total crap, and you doubt you showered last night. You do not want to see Han Taesan, and that’s final.
“Yes, ma’am.” She says and jumps off the tall bed. Through half-lidded eyes, you see her crack the door and exchange words with the visitor. You confirm it’s Taesan when his stupid face appears in the crack. Almost involuntarily you close your eyes. As the saying goes, out of sight, out of mind. Even with a foggy mind and a throbbing headache, you know nothing good can come out of talking to him, or even seeing him, when you’re so wildly hungover. You feel like a ghost haunting your body. You hear the door shut, and you open your eyes to see Jen shimmying over to you with her eyebrows raised and a disbelieving smile across her face. You close your eyes again, you do not want to see or hear what she has to offer unless it’s an ibuprofen.
“I can’t believe he came to check up on you! Isn’t that sweet? I have no idea what was happening with you two before I got there, but he was so cute about you. He looked so nervous! It’s not like him at all.” You can practically hear her dancing around in excitement. “Your love life never goes anywhere, this is so exciting!” You grumble in protest at her jab at you. She’s been begging to let her set you up with someone, but the only people she knows are frat bros and sorority girls, neither of which are your type, usually. Is Taesan part of a frat? Doesn’t seem like him.
“Jen… advil… please.” You reach out for her with a weak hand.
“You’re not dying.” She assures you, but dutifully returns to your bedside with two little red pills, a bottle of water, and a bag of goldfish. This is how Jen is, you’ve learned; poking fun at you while still looking out for you. “Come on, take them.” She says, holding out the pills. “You’re lucky it’s a Saturday. For a hangover, you need water, food, and sleep.” She recites. Maybe hangover care is a required class for members of the sorority known for the most functions.
“Thanks…” You mutter, bringing a weak hand to your still pounding forehead. “What happened?” You ask. It might help to know what you’re up against in terms of embarrassment.
“Before I got there? No idea. After I got there? Well, you were passed out,” she laughs, “I had no idea you could fall asleep that fast. He looked crazy confused, having you slung over him and all, you know? Anyway, he was dry sober, he just got there. I had the car, obviously, and so he offered to give you a ride back to the dorm in my car. Now, I went with you, of course. For one, I’m always going to come with you when you’re asleep and being taken care of by some man. Two, there’s no way I’m letting any man drive my car without serious supervision.” Now, this elicits a stifled laugh from you, after which you immediately wince in pain. Laughing isn’t good medicine for hangovers, apparently. “Anyway, he picked you up bridal-style, it was really cute, and brought you to our car, and then drove both of us home. I put you to bed, and he left after.” She states, "I wiped your drool, don’t worry.” She nudges you with an elbow.
“Ugh, Jen. Don’t joke with me right now.”
“No, seriously, you did drool. It’s one of, like, five reasons I’m never going to put you in a room with alcohol ever again.”
“I told you it was a bad idea to bring me.” You lament. You don’t like the idea of drooling in the vicinity of Taesan. And he carried you to the car? Seriously, not a high point for your ego. It’s not even about your germinal maybe-crush on him. “Give me some goldfish.”
“You always say that it’s a bad idea, but okay.” She hands you a handful and you shove it into your mouth. It doesn’t mix well with the morning-breath taste and somehow lingering tinge of alcohol. Your head is pounding and if the headache doesn’t kill you, the embarrassment might.
THE ILLUSION
Dr. Woo claps his hands together as the final undergrad enters the lecture hall. The long tables that act as desks proceed away from the central board in stairs.
“Yeah. Big project coming up, right?” He says with a hint of fake enthusiasm. “It’s going to be a group project, if two people count as a group. Hooray.” A resounding groan emanates from the student body. Dr. Woo is visually unphased by this. “Despite the fact that choice is an illusion, you can pick your own partners. This is college. I don’t care.” He waves a hand dismissing any rebuttal, not that any was coming. Regardless of any other feelings about Dr. Woo, everyone knows he’s a great (read: easy) grader. “Anyway, go crazy. You all know the topic.”
Your heart drops as the room immediately erupts in chattering. Your circle was small at best, and you knew no one in World Lit except for… oh no. You feel a tap on your shoulder. Almost in slow motion, you turn around and see Taesan’s damned handsome face.
“Hey,” he says, very, very casually, “do you want to be my partner?” Oh, what the fuck.
“Um…” You furrow your eyebrows. It’s not that you don’t want to be partners with him, really. It’s just that you don’t want to recoil in embarrassment every time you work on a project worth 20% of your grade.
He cocks his head to the side, “so?” You’re pretty sure his face could bring world peace. Have him try to convince a warlord to stop fighting by flashing a smile and they’d be a pacifist in under ten minutes.
You sigh, “yeah. Sure.” You try to smile, it doesn’t work that well. Fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen? Do it for the plot, right? Choosing to partner with him is definitely for the plot. You’re not entirely convinced that he’s pure in his intentions to partner with you; maybe this is part of a bigger frat boy scheme.
“My analysis is actually good, I swear.” He says as he pulls back the chair next to you to sit down. Is that a reference? To what? You are thoroughly confused, clearly remembering very little of that fateful night. He tucks his hands behind his head and leans back.
“What?” You laugh a little, if only out of awkwardness.
He presses his lips together and they contort as if a laugh is threatening him. “Nevermind. It’s nothing, really.” He is utterly unconvincing when he lies. Maybe he couldn’t convince the warlord.
“Taesan, what?” Your arms cross as you lean back in your chair. Around you, there’s a buzz of new partnerships and dates being set to meet. You two, however, are alone in your own world. In your periphery, Dr. Woo is staring you down. You’re pretty sure he can sense when work isn’t getting done. You can’t tell if he’s just a salty old man or a teenager with a gossip itch trapped in an old professor’s body.
Taesan notices, “Dr. Woo is creeping me out. I’ll tell you in the hall.” He picks up one of your pens and hands it to you in a non subtle suggestion for you to pack up.
You sling your backpack over one shoulder (despite how you’re told it’s bad for your back) and lead Taesan out of the lecture hall.
“So, are you partners with me just to make fun of me?” You probe him as he catches up to you. “I’m taking you to my dorm, by the way. We can get started on the project.” There’s a silent addition of ‘even if you’re being an asshole, I chose to be stuck with you for some reason’ when you give him a purposeful glance. Maybe Dr. Woo is right. Maybe choice is an illusion. He looks completely lost.
“No, no. It’s not like that, really. I didn't mean to make you feel bad, I just thought it was funny.” He turns around and shakes his head to punctuate his point.
“Is it better if I don’t know what happened at the party?” One eyebrow raises and you stare him down with some weird level of confidence. Maybe knowing that he’s seen you drooling, drunk, and looking crazy makes you feel like you don’t have much else to lose.
“No, nothing bad happened. You were just drunk. It happens to the best of us.” He shrugs as you enter onto the green.
“Don’t drag this out, let me bite the bullet if I want to.”
He laughs a little, “alright. In summary, you backed into me, told me I was cute, told me my analysis sucks,” so that’s what that was about, “and told me I should kiss you and I told you that you were too drunk,” oh, what the fuck, “and then you fell asleep on me and Jennifer came over. I carried you to the car and drove both you and her home because she had a couple drinks and I had none. I checked up on you because I knew you were going to have one hell of a hangover.” Great, you’re stuck with this fucker you borderline harassed while blackout drunk.
“You were right. It was one hell of a hangover.” You grumble, looking at the floor to avoid any eye contact with him.
“Don’t be embarrassed. You’re not the first person to tell me I’m cute when they’re drunk.” He teases and you roll your eyes. In your heart, though, this is deeply, deeply embarrassing. The thought of what happened stings like a blade in your heart and in your mind. It’s not as bad as the hangover, but it’s pretty damn bad.
“Yeah, right. I was drunk, okay?” Your words are biting. “Why are you partners with me, then? I wasn’t that great the one time you met me.” Maybe you don’t want to know the answer, but the words are already out of your mouth. You scuff your heels as you walk, still avoiding contact with the one and only Han Taesan.
“You’re cute and you’re smart.” He shrugs and you break your rule of avoiding his eyes because now you’re staring at him in disbelief. “Plus, you’re great at keeping me humble.” He meets your eyes now and you’re immediately regretting thinking anything about the previous compliment meant anything at all.
“If you keep being a jerk, I’m going to keep you humble as hell.” You grumble.
“Sorry,” he frowns mildly, “the first part holds more weight.” And now, you’ve flipped. It does mean something… maybe. You face forward again to hide a smile that he totally catches anyways. You’ve made great time alongside Taesan, you’re almost to your dorm.
“Thanks?”
“My pleasure.” He postures. “Why were you there in the first place? No offense, but you don’t strike me as an alcoholic. An alcoholic can handle being drunk better than that.” It’s sort of a compliment, you guess.
“None taken, I don’t believe that being an alcoholic is in the cards for me.” You snort. “Jen dragged me there. I told her it was a bad idea, but she convinced me to go anyway by bribing me with doing my least favorite chores for a week or two.” You explain, crossing your arms and he laughs. “No offense, you don’t seem like you’re part of the frat nor do you seem like an alcoholic. So, what were you doing there?” You redirect. It’s true: he doesn’t seem like a brother nor a drinker.
“I lost a bet. Riwoo bet me that I couldn’t fit fifteen grapes in my mouth and I wanted to prove him wrong because, well, he’s Riwoo, but I lost the bet.” A laugh bubbles up from your chest imagining the situation. Not only did he try, but he tried and failed. “My punishment was either to go to a frat or to do mine and six of my roommates’ laundry for a semester. I picked the frat, obviously. I’ve lived with those guys for long enough to know that all of them stink like hell.” He adds, grimacing. “Plus, ‘doing laundry’ meant changing the sheets and picking up laundry, too.” He looks at you, pointedly.
“You’re lying, no way.” You laugh, partly with him and partly at him.
“You clearly haven’t met my roommates, this way?” His finger points to the building that you’re rooming in with Jen. You pray she’s not there or you’re going to be met with a litany of highly invasive questions.
You nod at his direction, “yeah, there are like seven thousand people here and I can recognize about thirty faces max. That’s like nothing-percent.”
“Good for me, then. I don’t think I’d be the first person you’d be calling cute if they were there with me.” The tone of his voice is light, but in his eyes you see that he fears it’s the truth. Huh, Taesan is just like the rest of us, who’da thunk?
“Where did your cool guy act go?” You tease, leading him up the stairs to your dorm, distinguished by the handmade felt pennants, spelling your’s and Jen’s names. “Drunk me wasn’t lying when she said you were cute, seriously.” You assure him. “Now, I just have to learn if your analysis is as bad as she said it was.” You push open the door with your back, mostly so you don’t have to face him after calling him cute to his face. Last week, you would have run away on the spot; Taesan has you acting like a bad ATM—all out of order.
ENTOURAGE
You hated to admit it, his analysis was great. By spending hours writing and rewriting scripts to memorize for your oral presentation, you watched Taesan connect dots you didn't even know were there and recall obscure details from lectures that happened to be integral to the coherence of your project. You can practically see the cogs turn in his head, the way he bites the inside of his lip when he’s really focused, the way his face lights up when he gets an idea, the way he slides his thin wire glasses up his straight nose with a knuckle when they slip down because he furrowed his eyebrows too much.
This is how you find yourself at four on a Wednesday afternoon, weeks after your first incidental meeting with him: admiring his work on your dorm floor.
“Damn, Taesan.” You still kept to calling him his full name instead of Tae, you felt like it meant something. “This is amazing, I would have never thought to connect those passages, we read that first book ages ago!” You shook your head, his analysis was that good. Maybe not award-winning, but definitely worth an A, even in your harshest grader’s class. He smirks as he laughs a little, taking off his glasses and stretching his hands up, grasping at nothing while trying to stretch his back. You two had been sitting for hours on the hard floor of your dorm room; you told him to sit on your chair, but he refused, demanding he sit next to you so that he can ‘see what you’re writing’ better.
“You brought up At the Bottom of the River in the first place.” He deflects your praise. You’ll gladly take the compliment even if you had no part in his discovery. As you shrug his deflection off, you feel his arm come down around your shoulder and you jump a little, not expecting the touch. Of course, his hand feels nice where it rests, but you’re still not quite used to the way Taesan evidently shows affection. The first time he pulled the classic ‘I’m-just-stretching-actually-I’m-putting-my-arm-around-you’ move, you didn’t expect it in the slightest. You had finished a part you were putting off and he moved to stretch, suddenly putting his arm around you and shaking you while cheering you on about your victory. The laugh you let out when that happened was something entirely unprecedented for you, you laughed until your stomach hurt and your eyes watered, and you couldn’t even pinpoint why.
“Yeah, sure.” You look at him, exaggerating your skepticism with your one raised eyebrow, his arm still around you.
“When’s Jen getting back? Do we have time to mess around or should I go before she starts pestering you?” He asks, half-joking as he tilts his head towards yours. Jen had taken a liking to him, if not too much of a liking to him… for you. Whenever you and Taesan were together and Jen spotted you, she made the least subtle comments possible telling you to get together, wiggling her eyebrows and full of exaggerated winks. It wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Hey, look at the position you two are in right now: foreheads so close they’re almost touching, alone in your dorm, with his arm wrapped around your shoulder. Still, you’ve gathered that’s just kind of how Taesan is with his friends. From what you’ve heard, he’s like that with everyone. It’s not unique to you.
“She said she’d be back at five, so…” you check the egg clock, “like, thirty minutes?”
“Nice.” He purses his lips. “Are you nervous for the presentation? It’s tomorrow, you know?” Taesan has his sensitive moments, for sure. He sounds—he is—genuinely concerned about how you’re feeling about it, you can hear it in his voice. He’s not great at hiding things like that. Even when he’s making fun of you, it’s never malicious.
“I’m fine. I’m nervous, but it is a big presentation, after all. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” You tell him, flexing an arm to prove your point, though the action is inhibited by his arm still around you.
“Never doubted you for a second, Miss Independent. You can still be nervous though, it’s okay to be nervous.”
“Are you nervous? You sound like you’re projecting.”
He exhales, “yeah, I’m nervous as hell.” He laughs a little after the admission, but it’s not a humorous one.
“Hey, text me if you get nervous before, right? Doesn’t help to keep it to yourself. And, no offense, but I think I’ll be better at commiserating with you than your roommates, however lovely they are.”
He exhales. “Yeah, thanks.” He’s being surprisingly soft, and you can’t help but seize the opportunity to connect a little with the sensitive side of Taesan instead of the cool, nonchalant Taesan. From what you’ve gathered, his Nirvana-decorated headphones, monochrome black clothes, and his sullen resting face makes him less approachable to your peers.
“You’ll be fine. As you said to me when we were partnered, you’re cute and you’re smart. You’ve got it.” You tell him, leaning your head onto his shoulder. You wonder if he can feel your heart beating out of your chest. Can you feel someone’s heartbeat through their shoulder? Probably not, but the human body is full of surprises. One surprise is how hard you can see his pulse through his carotid artery, pulsing in his neck. Good God, this boy is going to get high blood pressure if his heart is always going a million miles an hour. “Tell me about writing music. I’m tired.” You tell him, closing your eyes.
You’re brought back to what you were told about the first time you met him. This time, however, you falling asleep on him isn’t so much of a surprise. Your knowledge of composition contrasts Taesan’s, you know little more than the basics. Asking him to talk about it is an easy route to a one-sided conversation where you get to listen to him talk, which is always a good time. He gets so animated, it’s hilarious and adorable.
“Your wish is my command.” He laughs, and you feel the vibration against your head and he starts on a critically tangential spiel.
Before you can get too comfortable leaning on Taesan listening to him talk about rhyme schemes, the door swings open. Jen walks in after opening the door with her signature slam. Why you haven’t gotten any complaints yet, you have no idea.
“Oh… my God.” You can practically hear her freeze in the doorway. Out of sight, out of mind, so you keep your eyes closed.
“Jen, no one’s dying.” You assure her, suddenly deeply uncomfortable, shifting on the floor.
“You’re right, no one’s dying. My heart is so happy, look at you!” She almost giggles.
“Is this a good time for me to go?” Taesan starts to ask the pivotal question that’s going to determine exactly how embarrassed you are going to be this afternoon.
“Yes—” “No—” You and Jen say in unison. You open your eyes just to glare at her, seeing her standing over you.
“No… I’m going to get to know my best friend’s… group project partner.” She winks very not-subtly at you. Taesan looks at you just as you look at him, and he shrugs.
“The more the merrier, right?” He asks. The rhetorical question becomes immediately very literal as Jen continues.
“Oooh… I like the way he thinks, girl.” She says, pointing to you. “Taesan, invite your roommates over, too. We can have a party!” She’s almost clapping with how excited she is, rolling back on her heels.
Taesan lights up, “oh hell yeah! I’ll see who’s available.” Oh, Taesan. Always the extrovert.
You groan, but it’s futile to try and stop the scheming. How did this get so bad so fast? “No drinking.” You instruct them.
“Half of them can’t even drink legally yet, plus, do you seriously think I’m going to drink the night before our presentation? No way.” He assures you, and you groan again in hesitant acceptance.
“I’m never letting you drink again. Don’t worry about that.” She promises you quietly before switching back to hyped-up Jen mode. “Oh, this is so exciting! When can they get here?” She’s sitting cross-legged in front of you two now, rifling through contacts on her phone in its sparkly case.
“Well,” Taesan pauses, “If they’d answer my texts—” ding! Almost like he scripted it, he gets a notification. “And there we go. Turns out they’re just hanging out at our place, all of them are free. Do you want them here now?”
“Hell yeah, I do! We should watch a movie… what movie should we watch? Don’t tell me they like horror…” She pushes her eyebrows together in what sounds half like a threat and half like a plea.
“Yeah, not that I know of.”
“We should watch 10 Things I Hate About You.” You suggest.
And that’s how you got to be sitting in a circle on your room’s floor with Taesan, Jen, and every single one of Taesan’s five roommates. You’d only briefly met a couple of them in passing before. Right now, you’re even managing to not cut each others’ throats out while playing UNO! What an achievement!
“And the color is… wait for it!” Taesan’s roommate with the light brown, almost orange hair and rounder, blueish-green black glasses says, leaning around to intimidate the others with a giant smile on his face. Everyone erupts in laughter at him. You remember that this is Riwoo, the one who dared Taesan to stuff 15 grapes in his mouth in the first place. “Blue!” He announces.
Your last card was red. Damn it.
Jaehyun immediately slumps over, Sungho frowns, Leehan stares at the card deck and Woonhak stares, terrified, at Jen when she jumps up, screaming “Uno!” as she slams her blue five on the pile. Shouts resound from the boys around you. Taesan is laughing.
As the room erupts around you, Taesan nudges you with his shoulder, showing you his card. His last color was red, too. “We’re both winners in my heart.” He tells you with a wink. What a sap. You push his face away with a hand, stifling a laugh as you feel a heat come to your cheeks. Your light push makes him dip away from you like the inflatable tube men outside gas stations.
“You’re so corny.” You tell him as you take in the scene unfolding around you. Inviting Taesan’s friends over was a great idea. Jen is yelling at Jaehyun, Jaehyun looks terrified. Woonhak and Sungho are yelling at Riwoo, Riwoo is laughing at them. Leehan is laughing at Riwoo laughing at Woonhak and Sungho.
Taesan catches you smiling at the camaraderie, “if people yelling at each other was all it took to make you smile, I’d have invited them over way earlier.”
“Taesan,” you laugh, “I don’t like schadenfreude. It’s nice to see Jen let loose sometimes. I don’t think she gets to argue with anyone very often.”
“If she wants anyone to argue with, I’m available.” He spreads his arms to punctuate his point. At this, you laugh even harder. As you look around again, you see everyone laughing and collapsing on the floor, except for Jen, who’s pretending to fume and sulk on her bed. You know her well enough to catch the smile that pulls at her lips.
“It’s like watching kids at the park.” You motion towards Taesan’s friends, who’ve clearly become very comfortable around you and Jen.
“This weird authenticity is kind of their whole M.O.” He smiles, very clearly adoring their antics. “Imagine having to do their laundry though. I’m glad I chose to go to the party instead.” He pretends to shiver which draws out a laugh from you.
“Yeah, if you had chosen to do their laundry you also wouldn’t have been able to see me drool on you when you carried me to the car.” You snort. You’ve made peace with your drunken night. After all, you’ve already lost your dignity and he’s still hanging around.
“It was so cute though!” He contests and you roll your eyes at him. You have sworn up and down that he doesn’t like you like… that. Even if he did like you, you’re pretty sure no one likes anyone else enough that their drool is cute. Therefore, Jen’s points are null. Simple as that.
“I’m just soooo adorable,” you roll your eyes, “you don’t have to rub it in, dude.” you smile incredulously at him, throwing one of your legs over the other, just short of taking out Riwoo’s leg.
“I’m not joking!” His tone is defensive in ultimate Taesan fashion.
“Yeah, sure.” You tell him as Jen reaches out to you and pulls you to your feet, leaving Taesan alone on the floor.
Jen whispers to you, “so, when’s the wedding?” You roll your eyes.
“Shut up, you always do this.” You groan. “Do you get some sadistic joy from seeing me uncomfortable?” You cross your arms, almost elbowing Woonhak. This room is not big enough for eight people to fit in comfortably.
“Can I be the maid of honor?” She ignores your complaints and you let out an exaggerated groan in response.
“Don’t make me regret not making him go home.”
“Fine, fine.” She looks to be backing down. That is until she smirks, meeting your eyes again. “I’m not the only one who sees something!” She says cheerily before bouncing off as far as one can, which is about a foot. She looks back at you and winks before (lightly) punching Woonhak in the back to get his attention. She’s immediately drawn into some debate of some sort or another. Earlier, Leehan had assigned you both fish and Jen had been assigned a ‘Cherry Barb’ and she immediately took issue with the name for some reason or other. It was very cathartic for Taesan to watch someone contest Leehan’s fish opinions. He was totally dumbstruck; it was hilarious. Then, of course, you got an informational speech from Leehan which quelled Jens’ argument. Now, she’s a Cherry Barb.
Maybe this is how it should be, friends arguing with friends and laughing about it after, cramped in a too small room. When you meet Taesan’s eyes, you see the sparkle in them tell you he thinks so too. Maybe your friends will become the opposite of children of divorce, gaining family instead of it being separated. Is that just children of marriage? Ugh, Jen’s infected you.
“So, when’s the wedding?” Taesan wiggles his eyebrows, clearly having heard the conversation. You roll your eyes.
BREAKING CODE
Jen is passed out on her bed on the opposite side of the room. The egg clock greets you with the time in blaring white: 11:32 pm. Head in your hands, you groan. No amount of free-on-youtube reality TV was going to calm your nerves. None of your favorite episodes are helping, even the one you have open on your computer.
After the boys had left, you guaranteed yourself that everything would be fine. Your presentation would go great, no questions asked. Now, sitting in your room practically alone, you feel way less optimistic.
Thoughts of Taesan cross your mind and you furrow your eyebrows, trying to shoo them. You wonder if he’s awake right now, if he’s anxious like you. You try to calm yourself by thinking that it could be worse, the presentation could be 30% of your grade. Unsurprisingly, that doesn’t help. Your phone, thrown aside earlier and laying on the bed, is practically inviting you to make a bad decision with its open, empty screen.
You stare out the window, contemplating whether or not to take the risk and text him. Your window opens up to a view of the door to enter your dorm building, and you can see the freshly fallen snow settling around it. The snow covers the creaky benches and even the overhang above the door. It’s while you're doing this contemplating that, to your fortune or maybe misfortune, the risk decides to take you with a ding from your phone.
On your home screen, you see a contact pop up and you freeze. You read the name again, it still says MOUNTAIN. Taesan put that as his contact name.
You look again, you weren’t hallucinating. It’s Taesan texting you. Is he nervous? Did he seriously take you up on your offer? You were simultaneously hoping that he would text you while hoping that he would never, ever even think to.
You steel yourself and open your phone, that’s when you get your answer.
[MOUNTAIN]: are you up [MOUNTAIN]: i’m nervous are you
You did tell him to text you if he was nervous. That offer, however, happened when you were feeling a little bolder. You are not feeling especially bold right now.
[you]: i might be [MOUNTAIN]: meet me lets go to the convenience store [MOUNTAIN]: chills me out before midterms usually and this is like the same thing
You didn’t need to even try to make a bad decision, the bad decision came to you, enticing you with the lure of a convenience store and a chance to escape your stuffy dorm.
Resting your phone on your chest, staring at the ceiling like a corpse with the way your hands are positioned, you weigh your options. Mentally, you make a list.
PROs:
You see Taesan
You get a snack probably
CONs:
You see Taesan
It’s been established that crazy shit goes down when you see Taesan past like nine pm—it’s like your friendship is a vampire but night-intolerant instead of day-intolerant
The last time you made a for the plot decision it didn’t turn out that bad. Yeah, partnering with Taesan could have sucked, but it didn’t. Going to the party was a kind of yolo-esque decision, too, and that was kind of a blessing in disguise. You rationalize your preference for meeting him with the fact that you know him better now. He’s not a rando and, as far as you know, he’s not evil.
You only live once, right?
You pick your phone back up and text him before you can rethink it.
[you]: meet where? [MOUNTAIN]: outside your dorm building in 10
You squint at the screen. His place is like a twenty minute walk away and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t have a car, that would be weird for him. You can’t pinpoint why, but you don’t like the idea of him owning a car, despite the fact that he’s driven Jen’s with you in it. Ugh.
[you]: okay
You are totally chill about this.
Looking over at Jen in her bed, you decide you don’t want to be interrogated about this decision yet. She will not let you hear the end of it, and that’s not going to calm your nerves. It’s kind of against customary law safety recommendations to not tell your roommate where you’re going at night, but you decide that’s not applicable here.
Taking your computer off your lap and swinging your feet over the side of your bed as quietly as possible, you assess the situation. The nice thing about totally embarrassing yourself the first time you met him is that you now don’t particularly care about how you look. You’re wearing Jen’s mother’s giant Hartford Whalers hockey team brand shirt and some irritatingly red plaid pajama pants that totally crash with the cool blues and greens of your shirt.
Tiptoeing to the square, wooden-framed mirror hung in the entrance you check how your hair looks. You pull on your oversized puffer jacket as quietly as possible from the command hook-provided coat hanger adorning off the back of the exit door. The zipper is cold in your hands as you check to make sure Jen is oblivious to your impending excursion. She is still fast asleep, evident from the way her chest slowly rises and falls and the faint snores that you hear from her.
The door handle is freezing to the touch. You expected as much from a dorm building with as little central heating as it tends to cater, but it’s still unpleasant. The door opens with a loud creak. You stand assured that no one has successfully snuck out of any single one of these dorms because the floorboards creak and the doors practically announce over the loudspeaker when anyone opens them.
Thankfully, Jen is none the wiser as you glance back at her, she’s in the same sleeping position you last saw her in: lying on her stomach with one leg thrown up closer to her chest and an arm flung over her head. It’s completely bizarre and totally adorable of her.
You make your way through the straightforward yet somehow labyrinthine halls of your dorm building. As you approach the glass entryway, you see Taesan illuminated by the orange streetlight, leaning against the red brick of the adjacent building standing on a recently-hardened layer of snowfall. He’s layered an unzipped black puffer jacket, similar to yours, over a gray hoodie and accessorised with a hat that makes his head look round like an egg. He’s rubbing his gloved hands together to keep them warm. He sees you before you even open the door, and his face lights up when he does.
After suppressing a smile, you scold him, “I can’t believe you called me to meet you at this hour!”
“You told me I could!” He defends. You notice how you can see his breath against the cold air. It’s colder than you thought, you push your bare hands further into your pockets.
“How did you even get here so fast? Do you secretly live in the next building, or something? Are you my tropey boy next door?” You nudge him, wiggling your eyebrows as if this was some plot straight out of a fanfiction.
“Yeah, right.”
“Come on, you’re not secretly pining for me?” You tease him, sinking deeper into the collar of your coat on account of the biting wind that hits you once you leave the sanctuary of the protected building and, though you’re not willing to admit it to yourself, because the boy next to you makes your cheeks hot.
“Yeah, I’m secretly hanging off of your every word, just waiting for the moment I can confess my undying love for you.” He rolls his eyes. Noticing your hands shoved in your pockets, he changes the subject, “are you cold? I brought some extra gloves, do you want them?” His words are surprisingly considerate considering the incessant teasing you subject him to daily.
“Yeah.” You laugh, freezing as he takes the knit black gloves out of his pocket. Taking them from him and putting them on, you adjust them carefully. They’re far too big for you, but it’s the thought that counts, right? The “thought that counts” is definitely keeping your hands warmer. As you examine your new apparel with a smile, you feel a pressure over your head. Somehow, you hadn’t noticed him taking his hat off and now he is pushing it onto your head. You jump back, “hey! You could have lice!” Your smile disappears in favor of a pout. The hat does feel nice on your ears though.
Taesan bursts out laughing, “I do not have lice, I promise.” Still laughing, he elaborates, “plus, you’re cold. Your ears were so cold they were getting red.” You glare at him as he only laughs harder. Instinctively, you throw up your hands to cover your ears
“Point me to the convenience store or I’m going back inside whether you’re nervous or not.” You grumble.
“Okay, Miss Grump. Just follow me.” He says with a stupidly charming smile and grabs your wrist before picking up the pace. To him, picking up the pace means speed-walking, but for you, it means jogging.
“Ack!” You jump at the sudden movement, “Taesan! You can’t do that!” You try to free your wrist and, when you succeed, you cross your arms, standing solid in place as he turns around.
“If you don’t come with me, I’ll yell that you think Heath Ledger is super sexy during the presentation!” He yells, running backwards. Your jaw drops open. You want to trust Taesan enough to think he wouldn’t do that, but you also know Taesan well enough that he totally would do that. It was a bad idea to watch 10 Things I Hate About You with him, Jen, and his roommates after the Uno game. You do not need your personal preferences aired out to an auditorium of your peers and Dr. Woo. Plus, the only thing you like about Heath Ledger is that he essentially serenaded Kat Stratford!
Damn it. Stuck between would and would not, you narrow your eyes and start sprinting after him before he can turn a corner.
“You’re so on, Mr. Mountain!” He turns to look behind him, seeing you gaining fast on him as you run as fast as your legs will take you towards him. It’s his turn to be surprised, and he speeds up. After all, he wasn’t going that fast in the first place. As you close the gap between the two of you, you can hear his infectious laughter that makes you press down a swelling in your chest. You do not like Taesan, you assure yourself. It’s all in good fun. It’s only good fun. Focusing on the challenge ahead, you see Taesan just ahead of you, about to turn down a sidewalk.
He’s right behind a snowbank. If you’re the sun and the snowbank is the earth, he’s the moon in a solar eclipse.
It’s impulsive, your next action, truly. Presented with the right circumstances, however, you like to take your chances. With a shout that’s more primeval than you intended it to be, you grab onto his puffer jacket and tackle him onto the earth that is the snowbank.
It’s almost like slow-motion when you, with an evil smile, keep your eyes focused on Taesan as you see the world around you slowly become more horizontal as you fall, yourself falling on his back as he falls flat on his chest.
When his front compresses the snow enough to stop his descent towards the obscured grass, you hear him let out a moan. A moment of silence passes as both of you process what just happened. You’re propped up on your hands (gloved, thanks to Taesan) and he’s lying on his back, hands thrown above him because of his attempt at stabilization during the fall. His lips are slightly parted in shock, and his eyes are wide open, staring at you. He looks like he’s seen a ghost. He totally moaned when he fell. At least you can play teasing offense on him instead of having to defend why you tackled this man that is in no way, shape, or form your boyfriend. To be fair, men whimpering is hot. It’s just that you didn’t expect the man whimpering to be Taesan. It doesn’t really fit with his image.
You hold yourself up with one hand, clutching your stomach as you double over in laughter. “Oh my gosh, this is hilarious! I’m going to tell Riwoo that you moan when you get pushed around by women. He’ll never let you hear the end of it!” Taesan looks completely scandalized. His mouth is open and he looks totally terrified, you almost feel bad for him.
Almost.
He covers his eyes with his gloves, “don’t you dare say anything.” Tears form in your eyes as you attempt to suppress a laugh to try and spare any more of his dignity. That doesn’t extend to teasing, though. It’s simply too good of an opportunity to pass up.
“What if, during the presentation, I yell out that you moan when someone pins you down?” You theorize him, sitting down on the dry ground next to him, throwing your legs over his stomach.
Still holding his hands over his eyes, he mutters a defensive response, “it’s not like that!” Flat on his back, he looks, somehow, handsome with snow visible in and contrasting against his darker hair, and his gloves covering his reddening face in embarrassment. If you’re lucky, maybe this is how he felt watching you fall onto him when you were drunk the first time you met. It’s more adoration than disgust.
“Aw, there’s no shame in it.” You coax. He is completely and totally embarrassed, you can tell by the way his ears are bright, cherry red.
“Don’t tell anyone, okay? What do you want?” He whines, refusing to look at you even when you try to pry his hands away from his face.
“Whatever we do and wherever we go together, it’s on you. Monetarily, I mean.” You push a finger into his chest as he finally frees his eyes from his own grip, daring to look at you face on.
“You serious?” He groans, he’s still red but looks to be over the initial shock. Either from the biting wind swirling around you or because of your teasing, his cheeks are coated in a dusting of red.
“Yeah, unless you want everyone to know about your sexual preferences.” Releasing him from your pushed finger, you cross your arms and shrug innocently.
“This is blackmail. This is extortion!” He complains, covering his eyes again.
“So… yes or no?” You grab his wrists and rip them from his face, revealing his angsty stare.
“...Yes, I’ll pay. Will you let it go now?” His words are harsher and he’s sulking, glaring at you. Maybe you pushed it too far.
“Hey, I meant it when I said it’s nothing to be ashamed about.” You let go of his wrists, opting to rub his shoulder instead, in an attempt to reassure him. “Listen, I lost my dignity by falling on you and drooling when we met, and you lost your dignity just now. Let’s just say we’re even.” You smile optimistically, hoping it will psych him into believing you because what you say is the truth, even if it’s a touchy subject, apparently.
Once he’s reminded of your not-so-cute meet-cute, he seems to relax a little. “You did drool like crazy. Do I really have to pay?” He’s smiling now, thank God. He rests his hands on his chest, looking way more comfortable.
“Yup. You do.” You laugh, it’s a softer laugh than your earlier fit, though. “Convenience store?” You prompt him, offering a hand to have him get up. As your hand interlocks with his, a smile tugs at the sides of your lips and you still can’t tell if the heat in your face is from the wind chill or Taesan. “And, take your hat back, idiot. Your ears are red.” The hat traps all the heat radiating from your flushed face and it makes you almost feel sweaty.
He laughs a little before speaking, “thanks for the hat. My ears are just so cold.” He jokes. “The store is just this way.” He points to the right he was going to take when you knocked him down. He was leading you the right way, at least. “Never try to blackmail me again, I swear.” He threatens, pouting, and then shoves you, however lightly. He doesn't look very scary.
“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see.” You retort. He glares at you, keeping eye contact as you walk closer to the glowing, welcoming arms of the convenience store in the form of its bright lights, illuminating the street from the inside, casting an eerie glow onto the otherwise dark and snow-ridden street. In response to his look, you childishly blow a strawberry at him. This hasn’t been either of your finest hours. Your antics draw out a smile from him, at least. Practically skipping along, you try to change the subject to something less personal, maybe. “What did you expect when you called me out here? You said you were nervous, after all.”
“Yeah, I did say that. I got the pre-presentation nerves, you know? ‘Thought we could talk about it.” He rubs his neck. This is definitely a less personal topic, but that’s not to say it’s impersonal.
“So, talk.” You command, avoiding eye contact mostly so you don’t laugh, replaying him falling over.
“What is there to say? I had some nerves.” He laughs, opening the silvery door to the convenience store, stepping aside to let you through.
“What a gentleman,” you muse, “how’d you learn that? Rom-coms?”
“I’m allowed to be nice, too, you know. You watch more romantic comedies than me.” He rolls his eyes.
“I do it ironically.” You drawl. “I was nervous too, to be honest,” you were not going to tell him that you were watching rom-coms trying to relax, that would be a little too much ammo for him, “Jen was fast asleep and I was just kind of… lying there.” You pick up a miscellaneous chip bag, lazily inspecting it.
“Oh, I totally get it. The only other person awake was Leehan, and he was going to trap me in fish conversation if I even so much as approached him.” You snort at this. Even from your brief interactions with Leehan this afternoon, his passion is palpable. You can just see it in his face that he’s a little bit of an uber-nerd about those particular animals. Nerd is being used affectionately, of course. His interest is admirable. “Do you want those chips?” He asks, pointing to the bag in your hand.
“Not really, I like those other ones better.” You shrug, pointing to the alternative, an equally fluorescent bag of slightly better-tasting chips. “We can tame the worries together,” you smile at him, reaching behind you to grab your preferred flavor, “the question is how.”
“Going to the convenience store is a pretty good start.” He pushes his bottom lip into the top one. As you watch this action, he suppresses a smile, suddenly. “I have an idea.” Of course he does. He says this with a growing smile on his face as he locks eyes with you. “We should have a snowball fight.” Your own smile grows as he waits for your response.
“We should.” You nod. This time, you have an idea, a bad one. “Only if you moan again.” You charge him with the scandalous comment, and he looks affronted again, and immediately reaches out a free hand to shove you.
“Don’t say that so loud!” He hissed, looking around the almost empty store to see if anyone heard him. “That stays between you and me.” You roll your eyes but you can’t hide your amusement.
“Yeah, okay.” You walk off towards the cashier across the store to buy your snacks, sticking out your tongue at him. On the way, you inspect and in turn pick up a chocolate bar and a mediocre-looking apple to buy with your chips; it’s all about balance.
Taesan comes up behind you as you place your haul on the mini conveyor belt and gives a small bow to the cashier. He sets down two bags of chips and an enoki mushroom snack that has Japanese writing on it, for which you give him a disgusted look. Perusing his other selections, you smile when you see the second chip bag, for which you change your disgusted look for one of gratitude.
“Aw, did you get those for me?” You ask, pointing to the less perfect, but still pretty good flavor.
“No, I got them for… um…” He pauses, seemingly unable to think of someone else he would get them for. It’s kind of cute, if not a little embarrassing. “I got them for you. I can be kind, remember?” Sassy man apocalypse.
“Duly noted.” You purse your lips. You look at him expectantly, going from him to his card on the back of his phone, again.
“What?” He asks, innocently. Sungho wasn’t joking when he said that he looks like a cat. As he realizes you’re deadass, he narrows his eyes and turns to you, “are you serious about the whole paying thing?” He cocks his head.
“I was pretty clear. That is, unless you—” You’re cut off by Taesan clamping a hand over your mouth, for which he gets a repulsed and highly suspicious glare from the middle-aged cashier, he meets this with another bow, unclasping your face from his grip. When you’re let go, you raise your eyebrows at him as if to say ‘really?’ His hand smells like lavender soap, it’s kind of pleasant, actually. From the state of his and his roommates’ everything-but-sleeping room, you wouldn’t have guessed they were in possession of floral hand soap. When you’re done thinking about how he smells, you’re feeling a little embarrassed and also physically being led out of the store, hopefully after Taesan paid.
“Was that really necessary?” You ask, hands free because Taesan’s holding the store-provided bag that houses all of your treats.
“I don’t need anyone hearing about… that. Especially a middle-aged anyone.” He clarifies and fair enough. You take the opportunity, however, to scoop up a clump of snow (distinctly not yellow, you checked) and pitch it at him. Still carefully holding your bag, he looks at you with a sense of betrayal. “Oh, I’m going to get you.” He threatens before hurling a snowball that splashes against your only water-resistant coat.
Snowball after snowball is thrown, before your brief yet intense brawl is cut short by ice cold rain slicing through the air around you. Without Taesan’s hat, the sleet pummels your head and it hurts. Your puffer has no hood. Before you can let out an ‘ow,’ even, you find your oasis above you, a puffer. Taesan’s puffer. He managed to, in the short time it started sleeting and you noticed it, drop all of his stockpiled snowballs, pick up the convenience store’s bag, take off his puffer jacket, and cover your head with it, protecting you from the harsh, half-frozen rain. When you look at his face to your right, he looks totally angelic. The streetlight behind him makes him look like he has a halo from the light filtering through the edges of his hair. He’s smiling, despite all the teasing and irritation you put him through in the short time you’ve been out of your dorm.
“Yikes, that came fast.” He comments, looking around and noticing how the sleet pelts down around the two of you. “I’ll take you home, I think it’s our cue to wrap this up.” He suggests. His sweetness contrasts against the wistful feeling that unexpectedly forms when he mentions parting. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation or maybe it’s the chill getting to you, but you feel like you’re on cloud nine, it’s the most you’ve laughed since Jen told you the crazy goings-on between her highschool ex-girlfriend and one of her friends. Apparently, her ex-girlfriend is absolutely smitten for her friend and said friend completely ignores her at every turn. You laughed until your cheeks hurt that day. Your cheeks don’t hurt from laughing, necessarily, but it’s the same sort of freeing feeling. You don’t know what to make of that, but you’re damn sure you like the way he’s smiling at you.
“Whatever you say. Thanks for the roof.” You beamed, pointing up at the make-shift shelter he’s made for you.
“My pleasure, Miss Grump.” He says this with a posh accent that makes you laugh. You have no idea since when he’s started calling you Miss Grump, but there are worse names, probably.
“Don’t make me kick you.” You threaten, trying (and failing) to suppress the grin that tugs at your lips.
“Sorry, Madame Grump.” He corrects, still holding the cover over your head.
“I’m not even being grumpy.” You warn him, not even trying to hide the smile that spreads across your face. “Come on, get moving.” You cue him to start the walk back to your dorm.
“Your wish is my command, Miss—”
“Don’t you dare.” You threaten and bump your shoulder into his. The walk back to your dorm is short, it took you far longer to get to the convenience store because of… well… tangential events. Checking your phone, you finally learn the time. It’s fucking two in the morning. Great! You’ll get essentially no sleep, but that’s nothing a little caffeine can’t fix.
“I dare more than you think I do.” He purses his lips.
“Okay, I dare you to admit you moaned when you fell.” You challenge him with a smirk.
He groans, “I pick truth.”
“This isn’t truth or dare, you don’t get to pick. Plus, truth would be ‘did you moan when you fell.’” You can see your dorm from where you stand in front of the red brick building, it’s still brightly lit. Hopefully that means that Jen is still asleep and hasn’t woken up to turn the overhead off.
“You can’t subpoena me so I’m not playing this game.” He shrugs, stopping underneath the overhang above the glass door that marks the entrance to your building and the separation from Taesan. As he steps aside, taking his puffer with him and putting it back on, you’re suddenly and unfortunately aware of his body heat now that it’s gone.
“I’m less nervous.” He says with a smile that seems almost confidential, like a secret only you know. He’s undeniably easy on the eyes with his stupid hat and soaked gloves and hoodie.
“Me too.” The words come out of your mouth softly. Somehow, they’re vulnerable words to say. “Goodnight, Taesan.” After your parting words, neither of you make a move to leave. His full name feels more meaningful than his nickname, somehow. You stand there, lit up by the LEDs of the hallways, staring at each other, and you’re not entirely sure why. The tension might be thick, it might not be, you can’t tell by the way you’re focused on his face. Well, it’s not exactly his face. It’s the way his hair frames his face, yes, and the way that his eyes scrunch when he smiles, even slightly, it’s also the way his egg hat looks and the way his hoodie is so damp because he was trying to keep you warm and dry.
Then it’s all over. When the tension breaks, it’s not like it’s cut through. It’s more like it dissipates. It dissipates thanks to the man who barrels down the street adjacent to your bubble, blasting a Spanish ballad and singing his heart out. Soy capitán, soy capitán, soy capitán! blasts through the complex. You break eye contact with Taesan just to laugh at the oddity passing you. You watch him coast down the street on his green bike, singing, without a helmet, hands-free. Your mother would not approve. Taesan’s not laughing, but he’s beaming and staring at you as you crouch down because of your laughter. You try and convince yourself it’s not even that funny, but something about the era of the night just makes you heave with how hard you’re laughing.
“I mean,” recovering, you let out a sigh, finally releasing a breath that you don’t remember holding, “it is a college campus.”
“You can say that again.” His hands are on his hips, and he’s managed to pry his eyes away from you. The sleet’s stopped somewhat, but the ground is still icy from the snow and sleet and rain that have frozen and refrozen over the past few days. The same wistful silence settles between you two after the interruption.
“Maybe it’s a sign.” You laugh in disbelief. Now you’re sure you’ve laughed more than when Jen told you about her friend’s drama. Way more.
“A sign for what?” He questions, jocose and almost suspicious of your deduction.
“A sign you’ve violated like a million rules of common decency!” Another voice, one other than the singing man’s melody and Taesan’s and your chatter, is heard echoing throughout. “Han Taesan, I’m going to beat your ass!” The voice threatens angrily. At first, you don’t know where it’s coming from. At second, you don’t want to believe where it’s coming from. You slowly look up to your open dorm window and see Jen’s disheveled figure poking out with the single most serious scowl you’ve ever seen her wear. The only time that gets close to this nouveau expression is the time she decked a guy for… being a total freak for one of her friends, let’s say. Your body is confused on whether to panic, run, or just freeze. Waiting to act is still an action, and it’s the prognosis your body suggests. You freeze, looking from Taesan to the window, where Jen is notably absent.
You look at Taesan.
You look at the window.
You look at Taesan.
You look at the hallway.
Taesan looks terrified, you look utterly and visibly confused, and for Jen… well, it looks like there's smoke coming out of her ears as she storms down the hallway towards the doors that open to reveal your two-person symposium. Jen slams open the door and, if it wasn’t specifically made not to slam, the impact of the slam would have reverberated until even Dr. Woo heard it across the campus in his (probably sound-proofed) office where he probably still is because, you know, he’s Dr. Woo.
“You motherfucker, what did you do to get her to go out without telling me! What are you hiding? Are you a criminal? Are you a smoker? Oh no, you’re just a piece of shit trying to get in her pants!” Jen steps in front of you, blocking everything but Taesan’s head from your view. From what you can see, Taesan hasn’t been sucker punched yet. His eyes are wide and he’s holding his hands up like he’s waiting for her to swing, and maybe he is. You know he doesn’t know her well enough to know that she wants to beat the shit out of him, but she did say explicitly that she was going to beat the shit out of him so he had some reason to suspect that that’s what was incoming.
“W-what? I don’t— I didn’t do any of that stuff!” He’s shaking his hands wildly and Jen still looks like she’s about to swing by the way she’s pushing a finger into his chest. Still too shocked to do, well, anything except watch.
You see her rear up in a way that’s all too familiar to you, and when you remember you can move, “Jen, wait! It’s–” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you see her closed fist collide with his cheekbone and the impact make him reel back, clutching the affected area with a mittened hand. He almost knocks his head into the pole supporting the overhang, and you can see he’s visibly out of it. Is this a good time to mention that Jen is freakishly good at karate? What Jen is, however, not amazing at is analyzing the situation. As she battles with the follow-through of the swing, she loses her footing on the icy ground, falling flat on her ass. Now, both parties accompanying you are on the icy ground and you’re the only one still standing.
You act in a delay. “Jen! He didn’t do anything, I swear!” You reach for her shoulders that are no longer there, trying to stop an action that’s already happened. You watch as Taesan crumples further into a fetal position and you stand there in shock.
“See!” She spits, snapping her head back to look up at you. “He’s not even trying to help me up!” Her eyebrows are furrowed and angry.
“Jen,” you almost can’t help but laugh, “you decked him, he doesn’t even know what planet he’s on.” You look from your best friend to your… Taesan, and wonder how you attend to both of their bullshit situations at once. “Okay, first of all, Jen, please don’t punch his ass again—”
“Yeah, I’ll punch him in the gut.” She snarls, cutting you off.
“No! There will be no punching.” You declare, trying to sound confident but you’re so bewildered it comes out more as a question. You turn your attention to Taesan, whose nose is bleeding ever so slightly. He’s holding his hat-clad head in his hands and is grimacing in pain. You mirror him, a grimace appearing on your own face as you look upon his pitiful condition. This is going to be so fun to explain. “I came out here because I told him he could call me if he was nervous for the presentation tomorrow and I’d talk to him about it and so we went to the convenience store and… I’m fine! He’s not just trying to get in my pants, he would’ve done that already if he wanted to.” You ramble, using logic that probably wouldn’t withstand in court but works well enough when you talk a million miles an hour to a less than law-savvy subject, that subject being Jen. The subject, Jen, looks scandalized by this information.
“Where did my innocent baby go?” She pouts, getting up to put her arms around you. “Where did my sweet, lightweight, baby with no love life go? She’s sneaking out to see boys?”
“Jen, I’m a grown woman.” You tell her, incredibly blasé and stiff as she embraces you in a hug. From over her shoulder, you catch Taesan’s eye. When your eyes meet, he laughs and then winces. It probably wasn’t a good idea to welcome an uncontrollable movement when you have some sort of abrasion on your cheek and blood coming out of your nose. Jen pulls back to look at you and shakes her head, you can almost hear her saying they grow up so fast. Maybe this is the same kind of telepathy that goes down between her and her sisters. Maybe you get it. Jen, coming back to earth from her sappy, self-appointed caretaker meltdown, narrows her eyes and looks from you to Taesan, and then from you to Taesan, again.
She opens her mouth and lets out a puff of air as if to start speaking, but she only does so a few seconds later. “So… there was no reason for me to deck him?” She asks, raising an eyebrow in genuine confusion. You nod, solemnly. Her jaw drops and her eyebrows push together. She puts her tongue in her cheek, mind reeling. This is when she realizes she gave this poor man a bloody nose and probably a black eye for no damn reason. Suddenly, she fixes her gaze on you, “you’re the one I should be chewing out! Do you know how many staples of girl code you’ve violated?! You could have died!” She exclaims, clearly ready to give you a talking-to, way worse than when you spelled ‘Elliann’ as ‘Ellyanne.’ She’s like OSHA but for general female wellbeing.
You reach out to grab her hands that are moving dramatically to illustrate her point, “okay, you can chew me out after Taesan isn’t bleeding out.” She seems to relax like a combative patient injected with midazolam.
“I’m not bleeding out.” He huffs, but is still holding his nose bridge, so he’s still bleeding, at least, and that’s not exactly ideal.
“You look like shit, though.” You tell him
“Thanks,” he groans, “can I get some tylenol, or something?” Yeah, he totally looks like a hurt puppy. It’s kind of cute, you guess.
“Yeah, we’ll get you patched up.” You assure him, breaking away from Jen to attend to Taesan.
“No ‘we.’ Only you. Don’t let her punch me again.”
“We’re over the combat phase, it’s fine. Get up, do your legs still work?” You try to say your biting words as comfortingly as possible. It’s past two in the morning, you’re too over-tired to try to pick your words so they’ll feel better for the receiver. What’ll make Taesan feel better, physically, at least, is tylenol and making sure his nose isn’t broken.
“My legs don’t, my ass hurts like hell.” Jen complains, but helps in picking Taesan up anyway.
“It’s very hard to break a tailbone, a nose, on the other hand…” You raise your eyebrows but say no more. Taesan gets up just fine, but still clutches his nose. “Campus clinic’s probably closed, we have a first-aid kit, though.”
Jen issues a half-hearted-sounding yet fully meant apology in the form of a mutter of “sorry for punching you, man.”
“You’re cool, man. Cool that you were looking out for her.” He gives her a small thumbs up. It’s a weird moment of friendship between these two. For having met barely a week ago and having spent five hours together tops, these two have a more tumultuous relationship than most twin siblings at the age of nine, which is saying something considering most have chased each other with a knife by the age of five and a half. Jen has gone from asking to be the maid of honor to decking the presumed groom and now having a hopefully more stable relationship with said groom. So much plot it’s not even ‘for the plot’ anymore, you’re just riding the wave of unexpected inciting events.
“The more the merrier.” You mutter as you sling Taesan’s arm over your shoulder. Why he abets this when the damage is to his face, who knows. The more the merrier indeed in your cramped dorm, trying to ignore how the cold compress on his bruise keeps melting even though it’s so cold and the fact that you have an injured and sleep-deprived boy on your hands.
GOT GOOD
You bite the inside of your cheek, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to express your dismay. You kind of bombed your presentation.
Scrap that, you really bombed your presentation.
As you step out of the lecture hall following the sea of your peers, you step aside to press your back into a free wall. It’s one of the moments where you need to just detach. Crossing your arms for stability, you melt into the wall. The overhead light that you can see even through your closed eyelids is obscured every so often by a moving body. This drowsiness is familiar.
Amid the frequent passings of students, the light is masked for longer than would be caused by someone in passing. You know who it is.
“Hey, it wasn’t that bad.” You open your eyes to a squint and see Taesan leaning against the wall next to you. Despite how you try to ignore it, you’re immediately drawn to the squashed berry purple color that blossoms on the inflamed skin under his left eye, giving way to a lighter almost green tint near his nose. Jen got him good. Your blinks are slow, the scant hours of sleep are getting to you. You slept through your alarm, foreboding you from even getting coffee before the presentation. Despite his injury, he’s smiling.
“I lost where I was like every other sentence.” You attempt to mirror his smile, but it doesn’t really work, leaving you with a smile that reaches your eyes but not your lips, somehow.
“It’s Dr. Woo, you’ll be fine. He doesn’t care nearly as much as you do. We got all of our information out. It doesn’t matter how graceful it was.” He lays out his reasons and you cock your head, weighing the possibility that he’s right.
“Are you like a vampire, or something? You don’t need sleep?”
“I’m used to it.” He shrugs. Maybe living with five as many people as you do makes you sleep way less; especially since it seems like Taesan is their chaperone despite the fact that Sungho and Riwoo are older than him, you’ve learned.
“You shouldn’t be. Sleep is good.” You close your eyes again, and a silence settles over you. You’ve created your own little bubble in the hallway, and it might not even include Taesan. Right now, it’s just you and your desperate need for rest. You are not the kind of person to pull an all-nighter.
“I told you you were going to crash.” He reminds you and you hum in response. “Look,” he gets your attention by putting a hand on your shoulder, “the boys are out, come back to my place and you can take a nap. I know that your room still smells like disinfectant.” A smile creeps across your face at this. It’s true: your room smells like the pungent iodine that you used to clean the minor abrasions on his cheekbone. You still have no idea why Jen has that much power in her.
“Lead the way.”
“It’s way closer to this building than it is to your building, it’s barely any walk at all.” He assures you. Regardless, you have to speed walk to keep up with the pace.
“Do you have hot chocolate, or anything?” At your drawled request, he tsks. Pressing his lips together, you take that as a no.
“I’ll see what I can do. Woonhak owes me like nine favors.” He laughs a little at this, and you smile too. Unremarkably, it hasn’t become spring overnight, and so the wind is still nipping at your face. You were wise enough to wear your Taesan-provided gloves, though. Looking at Taesan’s face and the way the wind makes his face a little pink, you’re pretty sure you could find the whole color palette on his face. Except blue, maybe. You’ve got the other colors covered. Red for his cheeks, orange, yellow, green, and purple for his bruise. Huh, that bruise contributes a lot. “It’s just this way.” He says, guiding you with a pointed hand towards a complex highly similar to your own. Same red brick buildings and same overhang. The difference is that, you know from picking your roommate, this building is the apartment sector. Frankly, it’s incredible that Taesan and his roommates are all friends. You know other people who got apartments, or even quads, who aren’t so happy.
As you step into the entrance way, you feel the warm air hit your face. This building is much warmer than yours, maybe that’s a good thing. Walking up the stairs, Taesan is steady behind you. You wonder if he’s thinking about catching you like he had to the time you were drunk off your ass.
As soon as you enter the apartment dorm, your focus tunnel visions on the soft couch in the middle of the room. It looks like heaven as you step towards it. You were unfairly ripped from the comfort of your bed for that fuckass presentation and now you can return to your natural state, sleeping. You thank whatever power is out there because this is so incredibly opportune.
As soon as you shed your backpack and winter coat and collapse on the couch, you’re out like a light. No words from Taesan can wake you now, even if it is him professing his undying love for you. No, it’s up to your internal clock to make you up, lest you sleep forever.
Your internal clock does wake you up. You’re groggy, but it’s still light out, so you couldn’t have slept for so long. As you assess your situation, you notice two differences.
First, you’re warm.
A navy blue throw blanket has been carefully draped over you, and you’re pretty sure you didn’t do that yourself. You bite the inside of your cheek—happily, this time. It’s proof he does care, and maybe you’re letting the gesture get to your head. You do… not like Han Taesan, right?
Second, you’re alone in Taesan’s living room.
There are no signs of life, not from his roommates nor from the mountain himself. That’s more puzzling. You would have assumed he would have stayed for one reason or another, maybe he went out to get hot chocolate? He told you that he would have Woonhak do it.
Looking around the room, you take in the sights. There’s a modest TV with various video game consoles, there is a section of the room clearly designated for guitars, and it’s remarkably clean. Not too bad for five early 20-somethings and one 18 year old. It’s kind of impressive, actually. There isn’t any leftover food out and even the dishes in the sink have been rinsed, if not thoroughly washed. You pat down the area around you in search of your phone, mainly to check the time, but also to figure out where the hell Taesan went. Something about his absence hurts your heart in an uncomfortable way. You would have liked to see him when you woke up. Still… you do not like Han Taesan… do you? No, no. You don’t like him, that’s silly. He’s just your partner for a group project.
As you locate your phone, you hear the door open behind you and you swing your head around to see Taesan standing in the doorway with a hand behind his back and a bag in the hand that’s visible to you. Another bag, nice.
“Good morning.” He smiles at your state. The way he looks at you suggests your hair is out of order. You fail obviously as you try to subtly sort it out.
“I had a great nap. You have a good napping couch.” You bring a hand up to rub your right eye even though your mom says it causes astigmatism. It would suck to have contacts in right about now.
“Well,” he says, setting down the bag on the counter, “I have your hot chocolate.” You’re pretty sure your face lights up at this, it’s the perfect thing for this kind of dingy day. “And,” he continues, “I got it from a café near here; store-bought isn’t as good.” He takes a cardboard carrier out of the bag and presents his finds to you, two lidded cups.
“You sure know the way to my heart.” You mean that on a deeper level that you hope he doesn’t catch. “What’s behind your back?” You ask, pointing to the obvious hand still tucked behind him.
He looks sheepish and brings the hand to his front, “I got these for you.” His cool act is far gone, he seems almost timid. In his left hand he grasps a bouquet of an assortment of colorful flowers. There are assorted yellows, blues, pinks, purples, and reds. It’s like a sunset wrapped in brown paper and tied in a pretty twine bow.
“Taesan!” You exclaim excitedly, jumping up from the couch to go collect your gift. “Why?” You poke. He’s quiet for a second, the question seems to echo throughout the room. A chorus of ‘why.’ You meet his eyes for just a second, but the shared glance makes your heart beat faster. He seems to bite his tongue, there’s a shining reflection of the kitchen light in his dark brown eyes. You don’t see them crinkle up, indicative of a straight face.
He swallows like his throat is thick, “I got them for you because I like you… I like you romantically.”
You’re not sure if your heart swells or drops.
From this one statement, you learn two things. You learn that Han Taesan likes you, and you learn that you like Han Taesan. You really like Han Taesan. You like the way he’s cold but kind and the way his bangs fall and his endless care for his roommates and his hardworking nature.
You like Han Taesan.
You take the bouquet in your hands, analyzing the flowers. You notice they’re mostly tulips, but flanked by carnations, baby’s breath, and bluebells. A smile grows on your face as you look back up at him. He looks absolutely terrified. It’s not worth it to tease him here. He’s vulnerable, you should be too.
You begin to open your mouth, but before you can, he continues in an attempt at defense, “listen to me, please. I thought you were cute and smart even before the party and all of those incidents, but now that I know you I can’t not tell you. You’re witty and stubborn and playful and it’s so easy to talk to you. You were cute when you were drooling, I didn’t know that was possible. You make fun of me but I like it because you’re so kind. I… I like you.” He confesses, he’s talking fast and you think your heart might burst with excitement. Excitement isn’t the right word—euphoria? Joy? Happiness? Exhilaration? No word is quite right for how you feel about Taesan. “The tulips symbolize love.” He says under his breath and the flowers take on a whole new meaning. You feel like a tulip. Tulips symbolize love.
The smile that bursts across your face makes his eyebrows release all their tension immediately, “Taesan, I like you too. I really like you,” you tell him, “tulips symbolize love.” You look down at the bouquet and see the array of tulips that smile back at you.
“Can I kiss you? I’m not drunk, I swear.” He promises. The allusion to your first meeting makes you laugh. You met with an ask for a kiss, and now he confesses with an ask for a kiss.
“Yes.” You whisper, and he throws his arms around you, pressing his forehead to yours. You sway like that for a moment, you feel the cold of his jacket against your arms and the pressure of his hand on the small of your back. You look at him and in his eyes you see him. No walls, just you two. Just you and Taesan.
You wrap your arms around his neck, one hand still holding the bouquet and pull his lips to yours. Warmth blossoms in your chest—his kiss is soft and tender and he tastes like mint. Mint might be your new favorite flavor. His lips fit perfectly with yours. You feel the soft press of his fingers into your back, pulling you closer to him. Your lips part slightly and you’re out of breath before he even starts to pull away. His kiss is just like him, just when you think you know him all, he shows you a new surprise, something new. After stalling for just a second, he pulls you back to him and deepens the kiss. You could kiss this minty boy forever.
When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours again, fluttering his eyes open and shut.
“I wrote a song about this. A serenade.” He says breathlessly.
Even in the dead of winter, you think your heart melts all over again.
NOTES: Shoutout Hartford Whalers even tho they sports disbanded! SINGING MAN CAMEO! The singing man is a genuine character in my life. Living in the city center of a major city means I get LOTS of people doing weird shit like the emoji guy (who wears outfits only with bright fucking emojis, my friends have seen him too, he’s wacky), the tree guy (a man who always walks around with a fallen branch on his head, no idea why), and the supercar medical worker (woman in scrubs who drives down the streets with a loud ass car that looks like one of those fuckass shoes with big holes in them you know what im talking about the kidney shoes). I take a pic and keep them in a folder on my phone called “recurring characters.” I have never seen the singing man. He walks past my house every weekday at 11pm and I like to have my windows open and he sings loud Spanish ballads. I love him. Singing man my beloved. Sorry this is a slowburn, it was forced out of me i fear. is this a slowburn? methinks so.
#bonedo#bnd#boynextdoor#boynextdoor taesan#han dongmin#han taesan#giant mountain#kpop fluff#bonedo fluff#bnd fluff#boynextdoor fluff#taesan x reader#han taesan x reader#han taesan fluff#taesan fluff#willeeam shakespeare#kpop x reader#dongmin x reader#han dongmin x reader#long ass fic#i love taesan#taesan
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Brother’s Keeper, Heart’s Betrayer.
Brothers best friend! Satoru Gojo x fem! reader.
Synopsis: Summer break is finally here!! It’s going to be a blast staying at your brothers place. That’s what you thought until you see the overly annoying Satoru Gojo In his house.
CW: Bbf!Gojo, 18+ themes, sexual tension, teasing, Enemies to Lovers?, Gojo being an ass, slight age gap (4 years).
Word count: 1195
A/N: I want to thank my friend @funnygirl12 for helping me with this concept❤️
Oh, how you loathed your older brother’s friends. They were loud, obnoxious, and always seemed to find a way to ruin your precious peace. The house would be filled with their chaotic noise, raucous laughter, and the smell of greasy takeout that lingered long after they’d gone. But none of them were as insufferable as Gojo Satoru.
When you first encountered him at twelve, things weren’t so bad. In fact, you even admired the sixteen-year-old with the striking blue eyes. He was always at your house, practically living there with your brother, and back then, he seemed like just another older, cooler figure. But as time passed, Gojo grew more confident—some would call it cocky—and that once-charming charisma turned into something downright irritating. His over-the-top confidence and teasing manner were enough to drive anyone up the wall.
Now, at twenty, you had just returned home from university. Your parents were away on a business trip, leaving you with your brother’s townhouse for the summer. The thought of a few weeks of peace and quiet was enough to make you sigh in relief. Finally, you could have some time to yourself. That was, until…
“Guess who’s home!!!”
Gojo’s obnoxious voice echoed through the house, piercing the tranquility you’d been looking forward to. You buried your face in your pillow and groaned. Of course, he was here. You briefly considered hiding under your covers and pretending you hadn’t heard him, but no—you were the good sister, right?
With a deep sigh, you dragged yourself out of bed. You would say hello, maybe make small talk, and then retreat back to your room. Simple enough. At least, that’s what you told yourself. But as you headed downstairs, the all-too-familiar sound of Gojo and your brother chatting away hit your ears. The two of them were sitting on the couch, beers in hand, deep in their usual “bro talk.”
You rolled your eyes before walking into the living room, putting on your best indifferent expression.
“I knew I heard your loud voice from my room,” you muttered, crossing your arms as you leaned against the doorframe. You glanced at both of them, offering a quick wave. “Hey.”
You grabbed a snack, hoping to make your escape upstairs, but then—
“Well, if it isn’t Y/N, the wet rat,” Gojo teased, his grin wide and annoying as ever.
Wet rat. The ridiculous nickname your brother and Gojo had dubbed you when you were kids. It had stuck through the years, and Gojo never missed an opportunity to use it. It was a playful jab, sure, but it grated on your nerves more than you’d like to admit.
You shot him a glare, but as you looked at him—really looked at him—you suddenly felt a strange sensation you hadn’t expected. His messy white hair, the way his blue eyes sparkled with mischief, the confident smirk that barely faded from his lips…
Wait. What was going on? You hated Gojo. You hated his cocky attitude, his ridiculous teasing, and the way he thought he could charm everyone around him with nothing more than a smile. You especially hated how easy it was for him to get under your skin. But there was something about him today—something that made you feel… uneasy.
No, you told yourself. Not this again. You couldn’t be thinking what you thought you were thinking.
“Ugh,” you muttered, mentally shaking off the thought, trying to focus on getting out of the room before your mind betrayed you any further.
“Your brother went to sleep, you know,” Gojo said, stretching out on the couch, his usual smirk dancing on his lips.
You raised an eyebrow, not sure if you were more annoyed or amused. “Lucky him,” you muttered, not bothering to look up as you rummaged through the kitchen.
Gojo shifted, sitting up slightly. “I’m bored, and you’re the most entertaining thing here,” he continued, his tone light but it carried a darker tone. Hinting at a slight desire for something…different.
His gaze was a weapon, sharp and direct, sending a rush of heat through your skin. His blue eyes, usually playful and teasing, now felt like they were cutting straight into you—reading you, knowing you in ways that made you feel both exposed and electrified. There was something darker there, something that made it impossible to look away, and you hated how much it affected you.
Why did he have to look at you like that?
You swore you could feel the weight of his stare searing into you, pulling you closer, inch by agonizing inch. Your heart pounded in your chest, and before you could think, your body moved of its own accord. The space between you closed, the air around you thick with tension, and just as your breath hitched, you found yourself reaching for him.
And then—you kissed him.
It was impulsive. Reckless. The kind of kiss that made the world shift on its axis. Your lips crashed together with a hunger that startled you. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing. Gojo’s hand found the back of your neck, holding you there, as if he had been waiting for this exact moment. His lips were warm, insistent, and as his tongue slid against yours, you felt the rest of the world fall away.
Everything you’d ever hated about him—the cocky grin, the teasing, the way he always seemed to get under your skin—faded into the background. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the pull between you, the kiss that burned hotter with every second, and the way his hands seemed to understand exactly how to drive you wild.
You couldn’t stop it. You didn’t want too. Nor did he.
He wanted to feel you around him. He wanted to hear you scream his name, he wanted you to be his, and his alone.
The tension was unbearable. Every part of your being screamed for release, for something more, something raw, something real. But you knew this was dangerous, and yet, in that split second, it didn’t matter.
“Say my name,” Gojo whispered, his voice low and almost a challenge. It was a simple request, but it burned in the space between you. His eyes dared you to admit what you were feeling, to admit how much he affected you.
“Satoru,” you whimpered, your voice a breathless plea, wanting more of him, needing more. But just as the words left your lips, he pulled away, his long fingers gently pressing against your mouth, silencing you.
“I didn’t take you for a desperate thing, sweetheart,” Gojo said, his tone laced with mock amusement, the same confident smirk never leaving his face. His words cut deeper than you cared to admit.
And then, like the frustrating, infuriating person he was, he simply turned and walked away, leaving you standing there—a mess of emotions, torn between anger and dripping with need.
Oh how you loathed Gojo Satoru.
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Thank you so much for reading!!! Feedback is greatly appreciated!
❤️
-R
#jjk x you#jjk fanfic#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk angst#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojou satoru x reader#jujutsu gojo#gojo saturo#gojo x y/n#jujutsu kaisen#enemies to lovers#Bbf! gojo#brothers best friend#Spotify
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The lost boys main HCs
Paul
Here are some paul hcs! I hope you enjoy! This is kinda short but i had fun writing it!
If you would like a part two going into more detail about him let me know. I'm gonna be responding to Dwayne's HCS, though. I hate the ones I posted. I'm also gonna be doing an HC/ one-shot series about each of the boys before they found each other/ became vampires, so stay tuned!!
Paul is a younger sibling. When he was alive he had 2 brothers and one twin sister.
He was 19 but going to turn 20 literally like a month before he died and despite how he acts he was the oldest when turned,
If you ask him his age though he will say 20 to fuck with you before pulling the “Nah I'm just joking” card and telling you he was only 19
He does that mostly cause he's a little upset he wasn't able to hold out at least another month, so he likes to say what he could have been, but he doesn't wanna lie about his age.
He hates liars.
He also keeps track of every birthday he and the other boys have had since they turned cause he doesn't want to lose track of the years. It kinda keeps him sane a bit.
On a less depressing note
He is also one of the sassiest assholes you will ever meet. He does not think before he speaks and honestly, he doesn't give a damn
I mean y'all hear him when he said the whole “ chill out girl 🙄😒” line you can't tell me he wasn't annoyed that star was ruining the fun
He also does not give a shit if he hurts someone's feeling with it especially if its someone he doesn't know or does not fuck with, he sees no point in trying to spare the feelings of anyone he doesn't care about
He can also be a bit flirty just in general as a joke or genuinely he is just like that and he dont care what gender it is he will make flirty jokes or comments regardless.🤣
He is an asshole, but he is quite loyal to the people he loves, surprisingly. But he loves them in his own way. Despite all the teasing, rude comments, cruel pranks, and injuries he may accidentally inflict, he doesn't fuck around with other people pulling that shit.
The definition of “nobody can bully my family or friends but me.”
He can be nice sometimes. It depends on whether he's fully sober or not, and then it depends on what he did.
Drunk = steer clear he's gonna say or do some stupid shit that could result in either a fight with somebody random or not,or you all dying.
Stoned = yeah, you have a better chance of seeing him nice with this one. But still, be careful cause high also results in hunger, so don't get bit. he does bite. Remember that.
He also relaxes better after smoking, so he might just sit his ass down for a while, maybe watch a movie.
He's not a TV guy though usually. he finds it hard to focus on shows and movies so he either likes to smoke before watching or else he has to pause it every 20 minutes to get up, walk around, and bitch about loopholes and plot points for a few minutes before he can sit back down and continue it.
He just kinda avoids them for those reasons. He's more of a music guy. Because then he can get up, bounce around, have fun, and not miss anything in the song cause he can do other shit while listening.
The music he likes is rock and heavy metal; I will admit, though, that he is the kinda person to pull the “Oh, you know (random band), then name 3 songs.”
“ (names 3 song)”.
“Oh shit cool, what's your favorite.”
He does that shit often, actually, but his saving grace is that if you know what your talking about, you now have a new friend to discuss your favorite bands with. 😭
He keeps his area of the cave a mess but he still knows where everything is. But it's not like a dirty mess; it's mostly just clutter.
He refuses to leave food containers or remains in his room overnight like he can not stand that shit if he's chilling out drawing or something, and he catches the lightest whiff of food smell from a container he finished off not even an hour ago he getting up and throwing it away.
Honestly, that goes for all the boys, to be fair. They don't care about being dirty themselves, but they don't want their spaces dirty if you get what I mean.
Also, he does not like people touching his stuff. Only a select few people can, and that is Laddie and the other boys maybe star once in awhile, and depending on whether you are a close friend or partner, you can, but everybody has to ask unless he says to grab it for him.
He just doesn't want his shit moved cause he's worried he won't be able to find it.
He's not worried about shit being broken cause he will just fix it. Unless it's CDs or records that he can't fix, he will be severely pissed.
But one specific thing you don't under any circumstance touch, grab or even breathe too close to is his sister's old music box. If that gets broken, he will kill you, no questions asked, and he won't feel bad about it, NOBODY would want to/ have the ability to stop him at that moment, so just please don't touch it.
Other than that, he doesn't care. He likes having people come to his space to hang out and keep him company. He also likes showing off all the cool shit he has.
Oh, and the him killing you thing reminds me.
He is scary as fuck when he kills/feeds cause his style is extremely animalistic. He doesn't just tear flesh away or rip a limb or two. He fucking MAULS his kills to the point that if you see the aftermath, you genuinely wonder if it was ever a human or not.
His kills are quick, violent, messy, and sadistic. Cause he genuinely does enjoy the kill, probably more than feeding.
He's an adrenaline junkie, a daredevil, and anything in between, so when it is time, he will find a target, and to be fair, he likes a good chase. So he will probably grab somebody, and when they fight back, he will purposely let them go and give them a head start so he can chase them down just to make the mauling more fun.
When he's done feeding, he is most of the time covered in blood, dirt, leaves, sand, sticks, you name it, and it's probably on him.
He cleans up as best he can before going back onto the boardwalk or heading into town of course. But if they have a late feeding and they have to get back to the cave in a hurry before sunrise. He will stay like that until the next day.
But by the time he wakes up, he hates the feeling of the stuff stuck to him, so he cleans up quickly just so he doesn't have to be uncomfortable lmao.
Anyway, that's it for now. He's just a funny, sarcastic, sadistic, flirty asshole. But we love him. Cause he's Paul.
#tlb#paul tlb#the lost boys paul#paul the lost boys#paul hcs#paul headcannon#paul genral headcannons#paul x reader#the lost boys#the lost boys 1987#headcannons
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[At the cinema. Eggman and Shadow are walking down the stairs, looking for their seats. There are two people on the aisle seats] Robotnik: Ma'am, are you planning to move, or do you think I can levitate? Shadow: Ivo. Robotnik: What? If I step on her, she’ll have the nerve to whine. Shadow [speaking to the woman as they pass]: Please excuse him, he’s new to this whole going-outside thing. [They sit down] Robotnik: Oof, we're so close! I’m going to leave this place with a stiff neck! Shadow: I asked you if you wanted to sit farther or closer, and you told me to pick because you didn’t care. Robotnik: I didn’t care when I thought you’d make a good choice… Pfft. Shadow: Well, we can move farther up, there are plenty of empty seats. Robotnik: No, no, I’ve already sat down. Besides, what a hassle going up and down with the popcorn and having to talk to that woman again, she's glaring at me for no reason. Shadow: Then shut up and watch the screen. The movie’s starting. Robotnik: Hoho, as if! We’ve got twenty minutes of useless ads ahead. Not to mention the five minutes of logos where you can’t tell if the movie has started or they’re still trying to sell you something. [sniffs]: What’s that smell? Shadow: What smell? Robotnik: That smell. [sniffs his bucket of popcorn]: Did they sell me expired popcorn? Shadow: It’s probably those guys with the nachos. Robotnik [turns to look at them]: Hey, man, a little respect. I’ve got a sensitive sense of smell! Shadow: That's the only sensitivity you have, isn't it? [A plastic wrapper crinkles. Eggman cranes his neck, looking for the source of the sound. Shadow sinks into his seat, rubbing his forehead.] Robotnik: Hey, hey… You! You with the crinkly plastic! Bring your candy unwrapped from home, you're annoying everyone! [struggles to open a bag of chips, making even more noise]: “Easy-open,” my ass! Shadow: Please, let the movie start already… Robotnik: I told you this thing was unbearable. Shadow: You’re unbearable. What’s wrong with you? Does everything bother you? Robotnik: You’re right. I should be paying attention to you. Shadow: …No, no, keep fighting with everyone. With a bit of luck, you'll get kicked out-- Robotnik: No, no, let’s talk. That’s why we’re out here, right? So, how are you? Shadow: Pissed off. [takes a sip of his drink] Robotnik: Understandable. It must suck that Sonic only got close to you to get closer to your sister. Shadow [chokes on his drink] Robotnik: Do you think if I tell Knuckles, he’ll beat the crap out of him? Wouldn’t it be hilarious if I end up finishing him off after switching sides? Hehe. Shadow: Peak comedy, yes… Robotnik: I think I'll bring it up at dinner. Boy, those are boring in that house. The only thing we do is eat while watching the TV… Shadow: Aha… [grabs his phone] [At Sonic's house] Knuckles: Come on, relax. They're at the movies; no one talks there. Besides, Eggman is more tolerable when there's entretainment in between. We all know that, if none of us have hit him yet, it's because we have the TV. Sonic: I just feel bad. I've practically thrown Shadow under the bus. Why do we even care what that guy thinks about whether we're dating or not-- Tails [comes out of his room, looking at his phone]: Shadow says Eggman thinks Sonic is dating Rouge and plans to tell Knuckles at dinner so you two will fight. Sonic: …Yeah, now I remember why we can't tell that guy anything…
Part 1
#incorrect quotes#sth#sonic the hedgehog#shadow the hedgehog#knuckles the echidna#tails the fox#miles tails prower#sonic#sonadow#dr eggman#dr robotnik#eggman#shadow and eggman#ivo robotnik
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Power Imbalances and How it can Affect the Story as a Reader:
Let me start with some warnings:
1. I am not a fan of being stuck in the night court as a reader.
2. I don’t love most of the people in the night court. But I also don’t hate them. I tolerate Rhys and Feyre for the part they play in ACOTAR. I actually do like Cassian and Azriel. And I do like Cassian and Nesta being mates. I am annoyed with Mor who to me is useless. And I hate Amren (she is probably the only character in ACOTAR I hate).
3. And though I say I don’t like the people in the Night Court that doesn’t mean I am rooting for them to be the true villains (except for Amren, I think she is gonna be exposed as a villain/enemy) or for them to be written out of the story.
4. I currently am reading CC3 for the first time and I have not read ToG yet but I know the main premise of the storyline with the Valg in it.
***********
So my main issue with ACOTAR is the magic/power system. I enjoy a more well balanced power system amongst the main characters and their support characters. It probably why I LOVE Crescent City. Is hunt powerful with his lightening, yes, but does that mean Tharion or Ruhn are pushovers or useless, no. And personally I think with how SJM writes the power system in CC Tharion is capable of beating Hunt if they went all out, it just depends on the context of the battle. So in ACOTAR we have Rhys who claims to be the most powerful high-lord of Prythian in history (IN HISTORY). We know he claims that Tamlin would give him a run for his money and a fight between the 2 of them could crumble a mountain. But truthfully we don’t actually see this power he claims to have. He has to outsource to Helion to help determine what is wrong with the Autumn Court Soldiers and to put wards on the room holding the Mask. Does that mean Helion is strong that Rhys no, it means Helion has mastered a skill that Rhys sucks at. But then I just question if you truly have to outsource for magical help can you truly claim to be the most powerful high lord in Prythian history.
Then, THEN, we get Nesta. Cauldron Made Nesta. Nesta who stole her powers of Death from the Cauldron. Nesta who reads as a Dues Ex Machina character to me. Who is so powerful with her magical made swords, and her dread trove of accessories that CHOSE her to be their owner and wielder, and then on top of that the other ancient cauldron made swords showing up in CC3. For me she just is getting a little too much for this story. AND I LOVE NESTA!!!!! The first time I cried was because of Nesta in book 1 confessing to Feyre that she went looking for her all the way to the wall. Nesta’s book, SF, if my favorite of the entire series so far. But even I get turned off by the constant Nesta is so powerful and can beat anything the ancient Fae locked away. Nesta is connected to a missing/forgotten court. That Nesta is connected to the bigger world storyline.
And it’s a lot of power and importance placed onto this one character when we still have not gotten the full picture of who all 3 sisters are or how all 3 sisters play a part in this world. Do I think all 3 sisters are important to this world, I have no clue? I can see all of them being important but I also can see one being more important than the others. But it just sucks that this one sister has outshined her other 2 sisters in power before we have even gotten close to an idea of who the 3rd sister is and what her role to play is and what her power level is.
For me it’s like SJM had Nesta climb Everest and now Elain is suppose to show up and what climb a small hill? Which I am thrilled and so excited and happy to see Elain climb that hill. And personally I don’t think it will be a hill. I think Elain’s mountain will be as hard to climb and navigate as Nesta’s and Feyre’s. But I guess my anger or resentment or my frustration with the storyline SJM has written so far is in the fact that everyone who are Elain haters and Elucien haters are gonna be sneering at any small or large accomplishment she does make in her story. Elain and Lucien will fight Koschei and the haters will be like “Nesta could have gotten that done in a shorter book”. Elain and Lucien will find out about their powers and discover their magic together and the haters will say “well she is not an ultra powerful death god with a trove of magical weapons at her disposal”. How does SJM write an Elain and Lucien story that can be on par with Nesta mastering death and killing Daglen? I worry that their book will be seen by the fandom as meh and they will say “oh it’s a nice book to read but it’s not epic, it’s not giving us any more insight into the Maas Universe. It’s just there like FaS.”
And it just sucks. Because for me I am anxiously awaiting their book. I have wanted their book since WaR. More than I wanted Nesta’s book. And at this point with how long these 2 characters have been sidelined and MIA in the story I am worried SJM has done them both a disservice to the fandom. I think a majority of the fandom don’t see either Elain or Lucien as stand alone, powerful characters. I don’t think the main fandom thinks they give off Main Character energy that can maintain and move a plot along. And that worries me. Because if the main fandom just go “meh” with their book it makes their storyline feel impartial and unimportant to the overarching world building that SJM seems to be creating. And I want them to be a part of that world building. I want them to step into power that makes the night court blink and take a step back. I want Rhys to feel humbled. I want Nesta to feel guilty for ever doubting Elain’s strength. I want Feyre to feel regret for ever thinking Elain is boring or Lucien is weak.
I just struggle to understand how SJM is gonna write Elain and Lucien out of the deep hole she has unknowingly put them into. And how it will hold up against Silver Flames and House of Flame and Shadow. And yes I have heard that currently HoFaS is not on the reading order for ACOTAR but we cannot ignore how it plays a part in the world building of Prythian/ACOTAR. We cannot ignore that it has open a rift/doorway into a bigger world conflict with a strong enemy at the helm. And I just want to know and feel reassured that Lucien and Elain will have a part to play in that bigger world. And if they don’t I want to know that their part to play in PRYTHIAN/ACOTAR is seen and read as imperative and important.
I WANT TO SEE CHARACTERS BE ON PAR WITH ONE ANOTHER IN POWER AND MAGIC SCALES. I DON’T LIKE WHEN THERE ARE DUES EX MACHINA CHARACTERS AT THE PLOTS DISPOSAL. And I guess I also just don’t want to spend the next few years defending Lucien and Elain’s book and power levels to haters who think Rhys and Feyre and Nesta are the most powerful beings in Prythian and no one else can compare.
Now with all my fear venting out of my system I will state these are my foreshadowing hints and also headcanon theories that Elain and Lucien’s story are gonna be important and on par power wise with Feyre and Nesta story:
1. Koschei is definitely a death god and most of the death gods prior to this have been extremely hard to kill or secretly forgotten Daglen.
2. Daglen can be harmed using magical made weapons which there is still a missing magical sword in Prythian, Narben. And if the theories I am reading are true then the Valg from ToG is the same as the Asteri/Daglen in CC and ACOTAR. And in ToG we know you can kill Valg using Fire and Healing, 2 magics Lucien is adept at.
3. Narben is German for scar/scars.
4. We know the Cauldron gave Elain powers. We only have seen her seer abilities. We do not know what her other cauldron given powers are yet. They could be healing or earth magic (which we have not seen earth magic in Prythian yet, but we have seen it in CC). And in CC we know corrupted earth makes the Flynn and Sathia feel uneasy.
5. The Cauldron Favors Elain, practically has a crush on her. I think the cauldron is going to play a part in Elain’s story. It actually has a pretty sad story of being corrupted by the Daglen with darkness. Like that sounds torturous for a sentient object of creation. I think Elain might be able to purify the cauldron.
6. I think Elain and Lucien are Carranam. I think Elain’s seer abilities are tied to Lucien’s presence and that Elain is tied to Lucien’s spell cleaving magic. I think they will be able to share their magics between one another and through their shared magic we will learn the true history of the Courts of Prythian and the Daglen and Fae war. I think Elain will be a time walker and that Lucien can access past memories of the former owners of ancient objects. And through them we will get the truth.
7. I think the Day Court royal bloodline is heavily related to the Starborn bloodline. Because stars are actually just suns that we can see shine at night.
8. I think LoA is from the true line of Autumn Court royal bloodline. I think Beron is from a branch bloodline that took the HL position after the true line went missing with Queen Theia or had a curse placed on it to only birth females who cannot inherit the HL position. LoA is the first true Autumn Court royal to have sons in millennia. And that Eris is powerful not because Beron but because of LoA and that Lucien is also very powerful because of his mother’s ancient bloodline.
9. Lucien is the son of Helion and LoA. And I believe they have a mate bond and so far any couple with a mate bond who have children those children are powerful. Rhys’ mom and dad had a mate bond, and Tamlin’s mom and dad had a mate bond. Rhys says to Feyre in WaR the mate bond could just be a way to ensure strong offspring are born into this world. Lucien’s magic and powers could be on par with Rhys and even Tamlin, if not stronger since he is the offspring of 2 royal court bloodlines coming together.
10. In CC the ancient Fae there started capturing and hunting and killing Pegasus in almost like a magical ritual way. In ACOTAR they are still an aww inspiring magical creature to the fae but they are going extinct. And the last of the Pegasus are all in Day Court with Helion.
11. Helion went to the weaver to bargain on Rhys behalf for her help in the war with Hybern and he would release her binding spell to the cottage. If Koschei could feel his brother and sister in the battlefield and he knew his sister was bound to her cottage as he is bound to his lake then he could set his sights on Helion and or Lucien to help release his magic binding spell. The same ancient fae warrior bound Stryga and Koschei, so potentially if Helion could release that spell then there is a chance Helion and lucien are descendants of that ancient fae warrior.
12. The dread trove has sun imagery on it. Specifically the mask and it makes Helion feel extremely uneasy. Uneasy enough for Helion to speculate that a past ancestor of his might have been an owner and victim of this item.
13. I think the dread trove represents the 3 sisters. The Mask is Nesta who is the queen of death and the dead. The Crown is Feyre who is a strong and accomplished Daemati. And the Harp is Elain someone who can see through time. I would like to see the Harp appear for Elain in her book.
So granted though I am upset with the power imbalances and the fear that Elain has been outshined by her sisters already and their mates, I have to hold onto these headcanons and clues that Elain and Lucien’s book will prove to be epic and SJM will bring them into the fold of the world after keeping them at a distance for 3 books now. That she will show the readers that they are imperative to the plot lines and world building going forward. And that Nesta and Feyre are not greater than or more powerful than Elain. I have to put my trust in SJM loving her characters and the story she want to tell to us. But alas I do get worried and scared and I just hate the idea of having to defend Lucien and Elain and their book to all the haters in this fandom.
#lucien vanserra#pro lucien vanserra#elain archeron#pro elain archeron#pro elucien#elucien#feyre archeron#nesta archeron#rhysand#rhys acotar#cassian#crescent city#crescent city 3#house of flame and shadow#cc hofas#headcanon#fan theories#bryce quinlan#hunt athalar#tharion ketos#throne of glass#Valg#daglen#asteri#koschei#Helion#lady of autumn#ruhn danaan
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I LOVE MALEVOLENT SM BUT WHY ARE ALL THE WOMEN DEAD OR PLOT PROPS (spoilers up to ep 49 under cut)
I know Harlan Guthrie voices everybody, but like. Where are the women. I know it’s not fair to expect him to put his voice through a filter and heavily edit hours of footage but like, he doesn’t have to do that for us. He can voice a woman who just has his voice, as he’s occasionally done. Idk what he’s said about this, I guess I should do my research to see what his reasoning is. It doesn’t make me dislike malevolent, it just leaves me with some longing for what could have been.
The thing is, there ARE women in the story, but the way I see it, they are mostly either monster or plot device characters. (“Monster” meaning nonhuman, not evil characters). They often are either nonhuman or have very little agency. And the truth is, there’s nothing wrong with a character like that inherently.
Yorick didn’t have agency for a while, and he’s nonhuman, and he’s a very charming addition to the story. But we also have male characters like Oscar and Noel, and the friar (briefly), Daniel, and of course John and Arthur. Many aspects of their personality are just to build realism and humanity, and not solely to move the plot forward, and they have agency, their choices matter. This even applies to Larson, the Butcher, Percival, minor characters and antagonists. The amount of female characters which exist purely to die or be dead just kind of annoys me. Anna stanczyk is not really a character yet (though she may become more significant), and her potential death is held over Arthur’s head as a consequence for his actions. Emily MacFarland is dead before the story starts, and she is a plot device with no written personality that I picked up on (which, again, would be fine if it weren’t so common). Lily (the nurse) exists only as a symbol to bring John into his humanity, which is important, but Lily is not a “real” character. Amanda Cummings is leverage for Arthur’s guilt, being indirectly responsible for her death, and she has no personality I remember hearing about, and again, she is dead before we meet her, and that is the most important thing about her. Same for Kellin’s sister. The old woman who stole the baby, the cultist ghost (?) woman that Arthur killed, the witch, Marie’s sister (host of Mr scratch), Mr scratch herself/alexander the owl, the mother of darkness, Alia, are all nonhuman/monster. These are all cool characters, but they’re not women in the way that humans are women. It just leaves me emptyyy like where are they. They can sound a little different, it’s ok, like you can just make a female character. (Disclaimer, I know there are male characters who died pre-canon, and male plot devices. This is just to say, most of the female characters are pre-canon dead, and most of the pre-canon dead characters are female.)
This leaves Faroe, Bella, and Marie. Marie has depth and charm and exists as her own real person. She is powerless but not for lack of effort or free will. She tells Arthur he’s a good person, and her words carry weight. She had to accept Arthur’s help before she could be helped. I love her I love her so much. Bella being revealed to not love Arthur was important in her personality and her agency as well. Framing her not purely as a victim and source of guilt for Arthur, but as someone trying to improve her circumstances when society is not built for her to be independent, this makes her a real character, even if she’s dead before the story starts. And FAROE. Faroe was so close to being purely a plot device, and then our boy decided to pull maybe my favorite writing choice of the entire series: making it canon, not just faith/hypothetical, that Faroe believes with conviction that her father deserves to live, even though he is responsible for her death. This, especially contrasted with the other boy who chose to slaughter the entire village that killed the stranger who tried to save him from drowning, gives free will and agency not only to a female character, but to a child. It makes a clear statement that children, while young, are people in the same way anyone else is. They have the capacity for immense acts of forgiveness and brutality, which makes Faroe’s CHOICE to forgive significant. While I do want more live female characters, I think it’d obviously be a poor writing choice to bring Faroe back, and I don’t expect this to happen. I just want more live, vibrant female characters. We know that Guthrie can do it, because he has, I just want MORE of it, and I wish they could be ALIVE to interact with Arthur. If anyone has read this far and I’ve made a misstep lmk, I’d love to hear your thoughts.
#massive rant sorry#void screaming#malevolent#malevolent podcast#faroe lester#marie malevolent#bella saltzman#amanda cummings#anna stanczyk#bella malevolent#alia malevolent
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Ioreth and Theoden Pre-Canon
My love for Theoden/Ioreth is making me think of a pre-canon Ioreth and Theoden relationship. Maybe he meets her on a diplomatic trip to Minas Tirith, maybe he thinks Eowyn needs a mother figure, anyway, somehow, Ioreth ends up the new Queen of Rohan.
The people are bemused by this chatty Gondorean, but they respect her learning and actually appreciate her modest background and the fact she doesn't give herself airs. Her first winter in Rohan she helps save a lot of lives tending to the ill and teaching others what she knows.
Theodred and Eomer are uncertain to start, but quickly become very fond of their chatty, talkative stepmother, and especially appreciate how happy she makes Theoden, and the care she has for Eowyn.
ETA: Actually, the whole match was Theodred's idea! He knows that Theoden is looking for a queen, and knows he fancies a Gondorean wife out of sentimentality for his Gondorean mother and childhood, and that Theoden is also looking for a motherly figure for Eowyn, but Theodred also knows that the people might not take well to "proud" noblewoman of Gondor, and that Eowyn really doesn't want any motherly influence who will make her put down her sword, so he turns to Boromir for advice, and between the two they identify Ioreth, whose background is humble, but whose learning and time as a senior healer demands respect.
Eowyn is all set to resent this interloper. She knows her uncle thinks she needs a "feminine" influence and thinks he's brought in a fine noblewoman to make a lady out of her. The common born, plain speaking, quick talking Ioreth is not what she expects.
Taciturn Eowyn feels annoyed by Ioreth to start, but Ioreth takes her under her wing anyway. Used to running a large staff, Ioreth proves an effective chatelaine for Meduseld, which Eowyn resents because for years that has been her role, but Ioreth makes sure Eowyn still has responsibilities, whilst pushing her to pursue her true talents and interests. Her time in the Houses has left her capable at recognising the potential of others and encouraging them to fulfil it, which she does with Eowyn.
Ioreth starts teaching Eowyn all about healing, and tells Eowyn about the Wise Women in history who have made names for themselves. She also believes in fresh air and exercise for young people, so she encourages Eowyn to get out of the house and the city. She's also got a romantic streak in her, so she's always happy to assist Eowyn in a bit of a flirtation with the more handsome riders, as well as inviting likely young men to Meduseld for feasts and festivals in the hopes of finding Eowyn a good suitor.
Grima Wormtongue tries to use his "subtle potions" and verbal manipulation to do Saruman's bidding, but between Ioreth's healing abilities and her non-stop talking, his venom never gets a chance to sink in. It's kind of hard to talk your king into a state of despair when his wife is taking up all his attention telling him about the chaos with the blacksmith's wife's sisters chickens that got loose on market day.
The War still happens but Rohan is in a much stronger state. Ioreth insists on riding with the war train to the Pelennor with a bunch of healers trained by her personally. It is Theodred who is left behind to rule. Eowyn still sneaks along because she's Eowyn. Theoden is more on it due to not having been under Grima's spell for the last few years, his fitness and his control of Snowmane is stronger, so he ends up thrown but not crushed. Eowyn and Merry still take on the Witch King in his defence because never will they not. Ioreth recognises Eowyn as alive before she is taken off the battlefield, and keeps Eomer from freaking out quite so much (he still freaks out a fair bit).
Ioreth rides with Theoden and Eowyn back to the Houses and she tends to them both (and gives Eowyn a hell of a scolding when she wakes up).
She watches Faramir falling in love with Eowyn with absolute delight because she knew Faramir before coming to Rohan and there's no one in her mind more worthy of "her" girl than Faramir. After things are settled between Faramir and Eowyn, she turns her attention to Lothiriel and Eomer.
A year or so after the war, Theoden steps down in favour if Theodred, and semi-retires with Ioreth to Lossenarch.
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Chapter 10. Lilacs
Summary: Lately, you seek his approval and he finds himself disliking it, it's more fun when you only seek to amuse yourself. Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Words: 2,174 Listen to: 'Too Sweet' -by Hozier A/N: I love parallels my beloved -Danny
This author can't say for certain if an artist is better company than the crown, but there must be at least some level of mutual fondness.
Lady Whistledown, October 1815
Dear Diary,
Knowing I should nourish the friendship does nothing but make my lust grow claws and teeth, and each day spent in his company yet lacking his advances makes my soul wither, much like the flowers I press between your pages.
To have my thoughts held by your spine is no longer enough. I need Benedict to hold me as well, like I feel so very clearly when I sleep.
"You bought a house?"
"Yes."
"Whatever for?"
Benedict stares at you with amusement. "To live in, of course. Just because you sleep out in the open doesn't mean we all enjoy grass, critter."
"Oh please, what you saw that day was a slip of manners caused by jitters. Why would you buy a house when you could rent one?"
"I can do whatever changes I please," he reasons, "I'm not very good at following rules. Better to have my own place and answer to no one."
You hum, appreciating his desire for freedom where society could not meddle. "I suppose congratulations are in order. Will you be hosting a dinner or will I have to invite myself into your home?"
Benedict reigns in the lewd thoughts your wording brings, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. "Wouldn't that be too mundane of an activity for a Princess?"
"You forget how much I love the mundane," you retort, shading the lilacs you're working on with utter gentleness.
"No, I do not," he says. "But being an introvert does not make you a fan of dull evenings, does it?"
"An evening with you is far from dull," you appease sweetly.
Benedict chuckles. "You do realize that if I host I wouldn't be able to entertain you? You'd be on your own. I doubt your sister would like to waste her evening in the affair."
"You underestimate the allure of the situation. Besides, you're my friend, not a monkey I bought to amuse me, I can survive without your attention for one evening."
The man tilts his head playfully, feeling ten times taller. "Whatever did I do to be considered alluring?"
"The list would be shorter if I went over the things that annoy me," you brush off. "But if you think I'm not ready to face this frigid society..."
Benedict scoffs out a laugh. "Such harsh words from someone who claims to love London!"
"I love it! I love the architecture and its fashion—but I detest your old-fashioned culture. Why on earth am I not allowed to wear my trousers?" You gesture at your legs. "It's not like men don't know what's under the skirts! And children care more about the sweets I keep in my purse than of my body shape."
Benedict laughs, one hand holding his stomach. "Of course, it is well-known what's beneath your garments, and what we hate the most is to have a more defined view of your figure knowing we can't have it! If we can't have fun, neither can you."
"That's hardly my problem, is it? In Genovia, people who harass strangers get fined, and if they get physical, they pay double and get locked up for the number of times the victim asked them to go away."
"Each equals to a day?"
"A month," you declare with sanctimonious air. "The number of offenders decreased since the law was created."
"Your country is Eden to progressive folk," he concedes. "Such a pitty the heir struggles with talking to large crowds."
You glare at him, tossing a tiny piece of chalk at his head. "I suppose that having all this freedom makes it daunting to take the first step," you eye your drawing, struggling to figure out the proportion. "Organized spaces make my brain go at a proper pace. I thrive in order, so I shall make a grand queen one day."
Benedict stares at your drawing, reaching to correct some things with his chalk, his movements fluid. "So your prudish conduct is only sustained thanks to the lack of steps to follow when it comes to misbehaving?"
"I'm not prudish!" You redden. "And that's not what I was saying, either."
"But if I gave you a list," he says, trying to conceal his amusement, "would you be tempted?"
"Can we go back to the lesson, please?" You ask flustered.
"Now we care about the lessons," he teases you. "I suppose I should stick to it. After all, you were so careful to make it so you didn't have to go around exploring new things."
"Enough!" You snap. "You think I'm cowardly, but I'm more scared of being Queen and failing my people than I am of being caught sneaking out of the castle—so test me if you want, we can bet on it!"
Benedict hesitates, unfamiliar with your temper. "I'm only teasing."
"Let's bet," you press stubbornly.
"That is beneath you," he resists.
"Benedict."
The young man leans back and studies you with mild annoyance, he doesn't think you're a coward, but admitting that out loud would bother him more than letting you believe the opposite. Lately, you seek his approval and he finds himself disliking it, it's more fun when you only seek to amuse yourself.
Benedict tries to come up with something that you'll say no to, better if it makes you think he's a bit of a cad so you go back to not caring about his opinion. "How about a visit to the Academy of Arts?"
You frown, finding his challenge boring. "That's—"
"At night, just the two of us." He finishes. "Some students stay and experiment with art and... other things. You may find women in trousers—or a gentlemen in skirts, if you arrive at the right hour."
The opportunity you've been craving has been given to you on a silver platter... and you're paralyzed in terror at the prospect. His gaze holds untold memories, he's lived things that would make the catholic guilt of thirty very regretful nuns take possession of your juvenile body.
Marie was right, you don't need to know what kind of lover he is to know your experience isn't enough for what he could do to you. Nevertheless, your longing to feel him squeeze you with his bare hands makes you cave like a house of cards, and before you can think it through, you speak. "I accept."
"You—you do?" He stammers.
"You can wait for me five minutes away from the castle's main entrance," you say as collected as possible. "How late is it late enough? Eleven? Midnight?"
"Eleven, but—"
"When?"
"Your Royal Highness, are you—"
"I say what I mean. Yes. When are we going?"
He swallows thickly, unable to take it back. "Thursday?"
"Thursday—eleven. Bring a carriage."
You offer to shake his hand. Benedict has never seen anything more enchanting than you right, with your brow furrowed in determination and the devastatingly loose material of your shirt resting on your collarbone, he wants to pull it downward just an inch and find out if your voice goes higher or lower when you're kissed there.
He shakes your hand, squeezing a bit more than he should. "And if you don't show?"
You smile. "I'll show up, Benedict. What if you don't?"
Benedict pulls his hand away, closing it in a fist and rubbing his thumb over the patch of skin where your warmth remains. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."
You sit with the Queen and your sister while watching the Eros and Psyche dancers, tapping your foot impatiently as you sneak glances at the box on the far right, where Benedict is dutifully chaperoning his sisters Eloise and Francesca.
Marie presses a hand on your knee. "I can feel you moving, you're distracting me."
"Sorry," you mumble. "I'm bored."
"You love plays," she rebukes, eyeing you with irritation. "What has you so..." As she speaks, understanding dawns upon her and she looks around, quickly finding the reason for your impatience. "Oh..."
"I'm fine," you blush.
Marie holds back a grin. "Right. Why didn't you ask your gentleman to join us? You could've spent the hour giggling with each other and mocking the dancers."
"Neither of us would've done that. He's an artist, and I enjoy a well-told story," you argue with apprehension. "Besides... I did ask." You make a face. "He's escorting his sisters."
"Oh no," Marie pouts mockingly.
"I said I'm fine."
"He's looking at you."
You turn so fast only to discover he's focused on the play. You look back at your sister with a murderous gaze and step on her foot, accidentally tearing a bit of your skirt in the process. "Oh, bollocks..."
"Y/N!" Marie hisses. "Oh, you—"
"Is the play not to your liking?" The Queen turns her attention to you, slightly vexed by the noise you're making.
"No, heavens no, Your Highness," you blush. "We—We are..."
"We were just talking about it, in fact," Marie turns to the Queen charmingly. "About the story."
"What about it?" The Queen questions with impatient curiosity.
"I just... think Psyche was rather silly," you say clumsily.
"Do you know, Your Highness, my sister thinks love is silly," your sister comments in a conspiratory whisper.
"Marie!" You chastise her. "I don't think love is silly—but in this story in particular I just think she was silly to believe her sisters. Whether he was a monster in disguise or not, wasn't of any relevance, was it? She had her needs met, Eros satisfied her, whatever he was. What was the point of digging deeper?"
"You are a woman dedicated to the arts, are you not, Princess Y/N?" The Queen comments, with a sort of motherly air. "Isn't it the point of it, to dig deeper into what we find pleasant?"
"Indeed, but Eros was quite clear in his instructions—"
"Yes, but she was restless," her sister interrupts her, "precisely because she liked him so. No one who falls in love can sit still and ignorant of their lover."
"Hmph," Your heart quickens with guilt, not liking that your sister seems wiser on the subject. "I'm not sure it's worth risking life as you know it."
The Queen returns her attention to the play and you take the opportunity to glance back at the Bridgerton's box, happy to spot Benedict already looking back. He nods in acknowledgement, and you nod back.
As you take a stroll around the ballroom, an elderly couple stands in your way and you politely stop to greet them.
"Did you enjoy the ballet, Mr Bridgerton?"
"Very much," he says with total sobriety, an expression that feels completely out of place within his features. "So much so I wonder if I may have missed my calling... as a dancer." He pouts mockingly and nods with faux pity.
The elderly couple laughs at his charming display and his face splits into a crooked grin, and you take a weird amount of pride at the way he succeeds so effortlessly. "I must say, I do not know that the male dancer needed to be in such a state of undress."
"He certainly could have put on a shirt."
Benedict prepares to play along and pretend he's equally as aggravated but you speak up, itching to enlighten the elderly couple. "He's playing Eros—he's a representation of erotism. It is part of his characterization, and using his skin to represent the wings instead of having him manoeuvre with a costume was smart. The way ballet dancers dress is meant to better their performance, when telling a story you cannot mind etiquette if its boldness serves a purpose."
The old lady reconsiders. "I can't say I fully understand what you mean..."
"I do," Benedict says with a special twinkle in his eyes. "And I agree."
The old man huffs out a chuckle. "No wonder you've taken Mr Bridgerton under your wing, Your Royal Highness, you clearly have a deeper knowledge of the arts that needs an equally well-versed mind to discuss it."
They excuse themselves as they see another pair of acquaintances and you look at Benedict with a playful air. "Is it comfortable, under my wing?"
Benedict rolls his eyes, shaking his head a little. "Please."
"What?" Your smile widens. "Is something the matter, my equally well-versed mind?"
He laughs, lowering his face to hide the sound from other guests. "All is well, my bohemian princess."
"I'm far from bohemian," you admit, dropping the teasing. "I couldn't possibly live that way, not with my routines and aspirations."
"And I cannot picture a life without the thrill of disruption," Benedict replies lightheartedly.
You look at each other with equal amounts of fondness and irony. "How come we get along?"
"Have I ever said that?" He narrows his eyes in playful confusion. You elbow him, and Benedict takes it in stride; otherwise, you would've struck a servant's platter.
Next Chapter –>
Taglist.
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#twoidiots writing#benedict bridgerton fanfic#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton x y/n#benedict bridgerton imagine#bridgerton netflix#Bridgerton x Princess Diaries crossover#TPD fic
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Peeta-Delly sibling conversations I write in my drafts as jokes to myself (in some of these I imagine them as actual blood siblings lol):
D: drive me to the store.
P: no
D: drive me to the store drive me to the store drive me to the store
P: no, no, and no.
D: but I want to buy some pants
P: don’t care
D: I hate you
P: don’t care
D: drive me to the store
P: no
D: drive me to the store
P: no
D: DRIVE ME TO THE STORE!
P: NO!
Silence
D: you wanna get pizza?
P:… fine
P: smell my armpit
D: what? No!
P: just tell me if it smells!
D: smell it yourself!
P: I can’t tell! Come on, I’d smell yours!
D: No you wouldn’t, you liar.
(Based on a recurring argument with my sister that did indeed involve smelling her armpits)
P: look!
D: (ignores him)
P: Dells! Look! (Throws something at her) Dells!
D: what?
P: check it out, come here.
D: no just do it from there
P: ugh, why are you such a chicken?
D: just show me!
P: I don’t want to do it if you don’t come here!
D: I’m not going there!
P: just come here!
D: no!
P: fine, look. (Goes over to her). Look at my hands.
D: …no
P: you’re so goddamn annoying
D: then why are you here?!
P: just look!
D: fine! (Looks)
P: (flips her shirt over her head and runs away)
D: PEETA! DAD! Peeta’s being an absolute shit again!
Their father, somewhere: kids! Be nice!
P: can you come over and watch the kids?
D: I’m busy, sorry.
P: what are you doing?
D: stuff, okay?
P: please come over. I’ll leave you something in my will.
D: pfft. No thanks, I can live without your dumb cd collection.
P: please, please, please,please, please?
D: ugh, fine. Where are you going?
P: just out.
D: okay, are you going to tell me any details?
P: I’m going to play basketball, okay? Happy?
D: that’s why you need me to babysit? Just take them with you!
P: but you’re auntie Delly! You love them!
D: not enough to giveup Saturday night, dumbass.
P: please!
D: No!
P: how about this, you come with and I talk you up to Thom.
D: not worth it. I bet you’re going drinking after. And I’m stuck with two snotty kids? Screw that.
P: I’ll give you a hundred bucks.
D: five hundred.
P: two
D: three, final offer.
P: FINE! Just be here in twenty minutes.
D (ignoring Peeta’s phone calls)
(He calls again)
D: WHAT?
K: Peeta’s in the hospital! There was-He- just, oh my god, come quick okay?
D: I’m on my way.
P: (talking to a random stranger) this is my nephew, isn’t he adorable?
Random stranger: um, sure.
P: he’s my first nephew ever. My sister - well she’s not really my sister - but my sister, her names Delly, she said I can go visit him today. She just gave birth! Can you believe it?
Random person: I believe it.
P: what does that mean?
RP: I-I mean the kid looks like a newborn.
P: oh! Yeah, of course. Haha. Right. Anyway, what can I get you?
(On the phone)
P: ya?
D: what’d you get Katniss for Christmas?
P: books. New shoes. Oh, and that thing you told me to get. What was it called?
D: yeah, yeah. The um, dehydrator?
P: yeah that.
D: do you think she’d like a photo album? I could put a bunch of pictures of the family in there.
P: yeah, why not. Did you get my present?
D: no, what do you want?
P: a new car.
D: keep dreaming. So you want a new paint set?
P: sure whatever. By the way, you’re getting a craft beer set from Gale.
D: what, why?
P: I told him to.
D: Peeta! Come on.
P: just kidding. Do you wanna come for dinner? Katniss made lasagna.
D: nah, I’m busy. Just let her know I’ll see her on Thursday, okay?
P: yeah, yeah. See ya.
D: later.
P: did you teach my kid to say fuck?!
D: um
P: what the hell?!
D: it was an accident!
P: fuck you!
D: okay, I don’t think that’s a great reaction or example in this situation.
P: you-just. Watch your back.
D: oooh I’m sooo scared.
D: can I borrow 500 bucks?
P: why?
D: I just need a little help
P: is something wrong?
D: um..
P: what?
D: my building manager raised the rent with no warning.
P: he can’t do that. Do you want me to talk to him?
D: no, it’s fine.
P: I’m going to talk to him.
(On the phone)
D: Do you know anything about cars? Dad isn’t picking up.
P: I mean, I guess so?
D: sweet. (Off the phone) can you explain what you just said to my brother? Thanks. (Back on the phone) okay talk to this guy.
P: um, hello?
#I could write more probably#I just like to think of them as siblings#the hunger games#thg#peeta mellark#delly cartwright#delly and peeta
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THE ELDERS’ QUEST REVIEW
!!SPOILERS!!
Sorry for not posting in months. Been super busy as a late with personal health issues and new hyper fixations-
K review time- Gonna split them up by protags
Moonpaw
• Really love the idea of the design! Super interesting, especially to draw
•I am actually interested in her as a character. Really like how she is not a medicine cat. (I was one of those people who wanted either warrior or leader Frostpaw btw)
•I’m a sucker for introverts and suffer from sensitivity to loud noises and related heavily to the Gathering scene with Moon
•Was intentionally on the fence about the voice due to Moonpaw being a chimera and that the voice could be her ‘absorbed sister’(mainly due due to chimera misconceptions) but, thankfully the sister is just a funky little mischievous ghost kit
•I know it’s technically part of Tawnypelts, but I am excited to see what they do with the sister especially after the prophecy Tawny received. Hopefully not a Ashfur and Shadowsight dynamic again :/
Tawnypelt
•This part may be controversial. Not really involved with the fandom much, but I never really cared for Tawnypelt. Didn’t dislike or like just neutral. I did enjoy her point of view, just not was included in it
•Don’t see chemistry between Crow and Tawny, but if you enjoy it, more power to you
•Praying her point of view won’t just be traveling in the next few books
•Rant about Tiger and Dove : scroll down to skip
I really, really don’t like Tigerstar and Dovewing in this book. I know it’s Tawny’s view, but those two are annoying me so much I can’t help but to think of them when I think of Tawny’s pov. Tigerstar and Dovewing are huge hypocrites here, I get not wanting for your son to leave, but Dovewing literally left ThunderClan before clan swapping was in the code. I used to ironically enjoy Tigerstar due to his sarcastic comments and insanity, but I honestly dislike him so much. He was possessive of Dove telling her to not vist Birchfeather saying he was giving ‘tough love’. Dove is also way out of character too, being kinda submissive to Tiger when it has been shown she is willing to do what she think is right. Loving how Tiger considers emotionally manipulating his son is ‘tough love’. Then he not only does this but punishes Tawny for busting her grandson??? When he and dove met in secret. The only good thing about plot is that it is treated like Tiger and Dove are in the wrong. Tiger then doesn’t trust Tawny about the twolegs….Hopefully they remove Tiger from leadership or have him apologize <3
Rant Over
•Birchfeather must be protected and have him live a happy life <3
•My main points about this pov so far is just hating Dove and Tiger, but I did enjoy it more than I wrote. Not much more due to them infuriating me but I do hope we get a move diverse location than the lake this arc
Leafstar
•Leafstar is the only one where I don’t have a lot to say. I love her and loving a leader pov in the main series. Dont know how to feel about her as a leader, since it kinda came out of nowhere and was just made for this arc but ok
•Writers do a good job of making the reader sympathize with Leafstar but also make them understand Skyclan’s pov
•Speaking of SkyClan’s pov, I kinda get where they were coming from, but like I feel like most of Leafstar’s slip ups were mainly consequential. Like I believe they lost the badger fight due to many reasons, but like I feel like it wasn’t Leafstar’s fault. No one knew there were 2-3(I forgot how many) badgers there. It was assumed there was only one so how was Leafstar supposed to plan accordingly?? The only reason Hawkwing succeeded is because he knew how many badgers were there…
•Kinda iffy on Reedclaw. Know where she’s coming from but I feel like she’s less evil and more grief stricken with anger. Hopefully they make her a antagonist not a villain. But knowing how Berryheart started last arc, I’m betting on her being a villian
•Interesting on having an elder pov with Leafstar, assuming she steps down.
•Said I didn’t have a lot to say but I did say a lot 0-0
Overall Points and Predictions for CS
•The book title made me think it was a traveling book and made me nervous, but looks like we are getting those in the next books.. Srs, why Elders’ quest??? The quest was mentioned at the end, but idk what it should’ve been named-
•All She-Cats pov!!!
•As a mothpool fan, I’m fine with CrowxTawny because it leaves Leafpool open :)
•Don’t know if the villains this arc will be twolegs/nature of cats like Reedclaw or Tigerstar
•Weird new book schedule, hopefully the books won’t be rushed due to the wider gap between books
•Now predictions!!!
•Leafstar will become Leafdapple and will join Tawny and prob Crow on the quest in the next books
•The new territories will be located at the gorge
•Hawkwing either picks a nobody for deputy or Reedclaw
•Reedclaw will be a villain(hopefully not)
•Birchfeather will have a tragic end it will go through trauma(hopefully not again)
•Leaf dies
•Tawnypelt and or Crow retires
My mom also reads the books and here are some predictions:
-Tawny and Crow live together in WindClan while Crow becomes leader
-Dark Forest reappears or the purgatory thing that happened in Star is expanded on
-Ghosts are expanded on
-most of the next two books are travel books
-Reedclaw becomes Hawkfrost 2.0
Thanks for reading my review!
#Warrior cats#warriors#warrior cats moonpaw#warrior cats Tawnypelt#warrior cats Leafstar#Changing Skies#the elders quest#Warrior cats review#warriors books#book review#softly grieving TawnyxLeaf#my stupid little gulity pleasure is warrior cats#sensory issues#moonpaw#leafstar#tawnypelt#skyclan#reedclaw#crowxtawny#crowfeather#mothpool mentioned#give me some gay cats please#birchfeather#CS#warrior cats ship#Warrior cats CS
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Okay, first of all, this is nothing personal, just a difference in opinion, but because Percy Jackson is currently my hyper fixation, I can't help but try to set a few things right when i encounter posts like this.
This is going to be a longer post, and I’m probably going to repeat myself a lot from some of my earlier ones, but I really don’t care.
I am so sick and tired of people in this fandom misrepresenting or misremembering the relationship Nico and Percy actually had in PJO. Because if you actually read the books, it’s so obvious, that Percy always did everything in his power to protect Nico, and that he was the person who cared for him the most out of everyone else.
First to tackle the points mentioned above:
“I just knew that Percy Jackson was the one who was freaked out by him when he learned he was the son of Hades”
Percy did not get freaked out, simply because Nico being the son of Hades creeped him out. He got freaked out, because Nico being the son of Hades meant that he could possibly be the hero of the prophecy. Because he feared what the gods and Kronos might do to him, once they found out:
We have to tell Chiron," Annabeth said, out of breath. "No," I said. She and Grover both stared at me. "Um," Grover said nervously, "what do you mean… no? I was still trying to figure out why I'd said that, but the words spilled out of me. "We can't let anyone know. I don't think anyone realizes that Nico is a—" "A son of Hades," Annabeth said. "Percy, do you have any idea how serious this is? (...) I don't think Nico understands who he is. But we can't go telling anyone. Not even Chiron. If the Olympians find out—"(The Titan’s curse, chapter 20)
“who got annoyed internally when young Nico asked too many questions”
Are we really blaming Percy now because he felt annoyed by a ten-year-old asking him a bunch of questions? A feeling, he only had internally, and never acted upon?
Even, if we ignore how ridiculous that would be, it’s important to remember, that Percy only started to get annoyed when Nico asked him why Annabeth didn’t know better than to fall of a cliff. His best friend who had just gotten kidnapped by the titan army. Before that he was genuinely nice to Nico. He complimented his mythomagic card collection, showed him his sword and answered all his other questions, despite the fact that he was emotionally devestated worried sick about Annabeth, and blamed himself for her fate.
"Big collection," I said. Nico grinned. "I've got almost all of them, plus their holographic cards! Well, except for a few really rare ones." "You've been playing this game a long time?" "Just this year (…) "Hey, can I see that sword you were using?" I showed him Riptide, and explained how it turned from a pen into a sword just by uncapping it. "Cool! Does it ever run out of ink?" "Um, well, I don't actually write with it." "Are you really the son of Poseidon?" "Well, yeah." "Can you surf really well, then?" I looked at Grover, who was trying hard not to laugh. "Jeez, Nico," I said. "I've never really tried." (Titan’s curse, chapter 3)
“who broke his promise to keep his sister safe”
I think I’m going to have to repeat this sentence for the rest of my life:
Percy never promised Nico that he would keep Bianca 100% safe.
He explicitly warned Nico that every quest is dangerous, and that no one could guarantee anyone’s survival. He only promised to do his best. Which he did.
(He shoulders sagged. He shifted from foot to foot. "Maybe you're right. But, but you can go for me." "Say what?" "You can turn invisible. You can go!" "The Hunters don't like boys," I reminded him. "If they find out—" "Don't let them find out. Follow them invisibly. Keep an eye on my sister! You have to. Please?" "Nico—" "You're planning to go anyway, aren't you?" I wanted to say no. But he looked me in the eyes, and I somehow couldn't lie to him. "Yeah," I said. "I have to find Annabeth. I have to help, even if they don't want me to." "I won't tell on you," he said. "But you have to promise to keep my sister safe." "I… that's a big thing to promise, Nico, on a trip like this. Besides, she's got Zoe, Grover, and Thalia—" "Promise," he insisted. "I'll do my best. I promise that." (Titan’s curse, chapter 8)
“Percy Jackson was horrible to Nico”
To tackle this relatively broad subject, here’s a list of all the things Percy did for Nico in PJO:
He was the only one to remind Bianca to think about Nico before joining the hunters.
(Anger flashed in Zoe's eyes. "That is not thy concern, boy. The point is Bianca may join if she wishes. It is her choice." "Bianca, this is crazy," I said. "What about your brother? Nico can't be a Hunter."( Titan’s Curse, chapter 3)
He made sure, Nico didn’t risk his life by following Bianca on her quest
("And now you're thinking about following them on the quest," I guessed. "How did you know that?" "Because if it was my sister, I'd probably be thinking the same thing. But you can't." He looked defiant. "Because I'm too young?" "Because they won't let you. They'll catch you and send you back here. And… yeah, because you're too young. You remember the manticore? There will be lots more like that. More dangerous. Some of the heroes will die." He shoulders sagged. He shifted from foot to foot. "Maybe you're right. (Titan’s curse, chapter 8))
He wanted to risk his own life, so Nico could escape from the skeletons
(I drew my sword and Nico gasped. I whirled and found myself facing four skeleton warriors. They grinned fleshless grins and advanced with swords drawn. I wasn't sure how they'd made it inside the camp, but it didn't matter. I'd never get help in time. "You're trying to kill me!" Nico screamed. "You brought these… these things?" "No! I mean, yes, they followed me, but no! Nico, run. They can't be destroyed." "I don't trust you!" The first skeleton charged. I knocked aside its blade, but the other three kept coming. I sliced one in half, but immediately it began to knit back together. I knocked another's head off but it just kept fighting. "Run, Nico!" I yelled. (Titan’s Curse, Chapter 20)
He searched the woods in the dark for hours after Nico disappeared
(Annabeth and Grover helped me search the woods for hours, but there was no sign of Nico di Angelo.(Titan’s Curse, Chapter 20))
He made Annabeth and Grover swear to hide Nico’s identity, so the gods wouldn’t kill him
(I don't think Nico understands who he is. But we can't go telling anyone. Not even Chiron. If the Olympians find out—" "It might start them fighting among each other again," Annabeth said. "That's the last thing we need." Grover looked worried. "But you can't hide things from the gods. Not forever." (Titan’s Curse, Chapter 20))
He decided to shoulder the prophecy, solely because he wanted to prevent Nico from going through any more suffering
("I don't need forever," I said. "Just two years. Until I'm sixteen." Annabeth paled. "But, Percy, this means the prophecy might not be about you. It might be about Nico. We have to—" "No," I said. "I choose the prophecy. It will be about me." "Why are you saying that?" she cried. "You want to be responsible for the whole world?" It was the last thing I wanted, but I didn't say that. I knew I had to step up and claim it. "I can't let Nico be in any more danger," I said. "I owe that much to his sister. I… let them both down. I'm not going to let that poor kid suffer any more." "The poor kid who hates you and wants to see you dead," Grover reminded me. "Maybe we can find him," I said. "We can convince him it's okay, hide him someplace safe." Annabeth shivered. "If Luke gets hold of him—" "Luke won't," I said. "I'll make sure he's got other things to worry about. Namely, me." (Titan’s Curse, Chapter 20)
He searched for Nico between Titan’s curse and Battle of the labyrinth
(“So the Nico boy is gone now?” “I—I guess. I tried to search for him this spring. So did Annabeth. But we didn’t have any luck. This is secret, Tyson. Okay? If anyone found out he was a son of Hades, he would be in danger. You can’t even tell Chiron.” (Battle of the Labyrinth, chapter 2))
He risked his, Grover’s, Annabeth’s and Tyson’s life on Geryon’s farm, for the chance to save Nico
(“Either way, you get my friends,” I said. “But, if I succeed, you’ve got to let all of us go, including Nico.” (Battle of the Labyrinth, Chapter 8))
He always offered Nico a place to stay, whenever he got the opportunity
(“We missed you at dinner,” I said. “You could’ve sat with me.” “No.” “Nico, you can’t miss every meal. If you don’t want to stay with Hermes, maybe they can make an exception and put you in the big house. They’ve got plenty of room.” I’m not staying, Percy.” “But…you can’t just leave. It’s too dangerous out there for a lone half-blood. You need to train.” (Battle of the Labyrinth, Chapter 19)
He invited him to join him on his birthday
(“Is that… is that blue birthday cake?” He sounded hungry, maybe a little wistful. I wondered if the poor kid had ever had a birthday party, or if he’d ever been invited to one. “Come inside for cake and ice cream,” I said. “It sounds like we’ve got a lot to talk about.” (Battle of the Labyrinth, Chapter 20)
He reminded him that it’s okay to still be a kid
(“By the way…” I fished something out of my pocket. “Tyson found this while we were cleaning the cabin. Thought you might want it.” I held out a lead figurine of Hades—the little Mythomagic statue Nico had abandoned when he fled camp last winter. Nico hesitated. “I don’t play that game anymore. It’s for kids.” “It’s got four thousand attack power,” I coaxed. “Five thousand,” Nico corrected. “But only if your opponent attacks first.” I smiled. “Maybe it’s okay to still be a kid once in a while.” I tossed him the statue,( Battle of the Labyrinth, Chapter 19)
He always offered him his help
(“Are you sure you want to stay here?” I asked. “Persephone will make your life miserable.” “I have to,” he insisted. “I have to get close to my dad. He needs a better adviser.” I couldn’t argue with that. “Well, if you need anything-“ “I’ll call,” he promised. (The Sword of Hades, in The Demigod Files, p 133)
He helped him to get the sword of hades back, because he understood his wish to impress his father
(I glanced at Thalia. She didn’t seem too enthusiastic about the whole track-a-thief-with-a-flower-thing. Then I looked at Nico. Unfortunately, I recognized the expression on his face. I knew what it was like wanting to make your dad proud, even if your dad was hard to love. In this case, really hard to love. Nico was going to do this, with or without us. And I couldn’t let him go alone. (The Sword of Hades, in The Demigod Files, page 99)
He acknowledged everything Nico has done in the last Olympian and is one of the main reasons why Hades received a cabin at camp
( “But your children should not be left out. They should have a cabin at camp. Nico has proven that.” (The Last Olympian, Chapter 20)
The only time, Percy hurt Nico in any way was the whole scene in the underworld at the beginning of the last Olympian, but I already tackled that whole scene here:
I would agree that their relationship very much deteriorated in Hoo, mostly because Rick wrote especially Percy pretty OOC, but even in that series, I would never describe Percy’s treatment of Nico as horrible.
Nico and Percy are together with Hazel my favourite Riordan verse characters, and I really hate how many people pretend like Percy was this horrible person, who always treated Nico shitty, or that they don’t genuinely care for each other. This misconception might be,(together with the “dumb-Percy-stereotype) the take I hate the most in this fandom, and really hurts both of their characters.
Since I struggle with understanding the difference between romantic and platonic attraction, I just need to make it clear that Nico di Angelo makes sense to me despite all of that. As a kid in elementary school who was bullied, who had no friends except my parents, I found comfort in books. People in books don't judge. They don't feel as scary or as imposing as people in real life. And Nico di Angelo was a character who made me feel less alone. Nobody liked him either. He also had no friends. Everyone thought he was weird. And that validation… that validation made him a childhood favourite. I couldn't have explained it as well back then, but I always knew I loved him.
Since I was a kid who never, ever felt romance, the Cupid stuff always went over my head. Maybe now that i'm approaching 20, i'll understand it more. But even if I don't, I get why Nico likes the dead more than the living. It's the same reason Leo likes machines more than real people. Real people are confusing, unpredictable, difficult to work with. Real people are also cruel, judgemental and unkind. But machines and ghosts…machines are predictable. They work in a way you can understand. And ghosts have suffered pain. They can at least understand isolation and loneliness.
And I don't think I ever did understand why Nico had a crush on Percy, because I was a kid for whom romance was just a thing in books and movies (never a real thing to be felt). I just knew that Percy Jackson was the one who was freaked out by him when he learned he was a son of hades, who got annoyed internally when young nico asked too many questions, who broke his promise to keep his sister safe. Percy Jackson was horrible to Nico, and it is not talked about enough. I don't care that they made peace (at least not when I wrote this in a passionate frenzy)!
I want some recognition of how everyone Nico liked hurt him! His sister abandoned him for the hunters! Percy promised to keep her safe, but failed! Everyone at Camp Half-Blood shunned Nico for being a child of hades! Every time we see Nico in these books, people are discussing how freaked out he makes them. Every. Single. Time. Every Time! This kid is the universe's punching bag, and he deserves countless apologies from everyone!
#I will defend their friendship with my life#Why do my two favourite characters also have to be two of the most mischaracterized within the fandom?#percy jackson#nico di angelo#pjo hoo#pjo#titan's curse#battle of the labyrinth#percy jackon and the olympians#rick riordan#pjo fandom#percy jackson defense squad#percy jackson supremacy
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Has anything like this happened?
You have an idea to write a popular ship for a fic just to see how many hits and kudos it'll get. And it ends up beating the rest of your fics in hits in a week and a half. (This is the amount of hits today and i published this April 23rd this year!)
#the fic is bowuigi for context#i blame myself#fanfiction#fanfic author problems#fandom#the super mario bros movie#my sister is annoying me as of doing this#why are we here#just to suffer
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ARCANE | 2.03 “Finally Got the Name Right”
#arcaneedit#animationsdaily#arcanedaily#animationedit#dailyflicks#netflixedit#filmtvcentral#cinemapix#dailynetflix#loledit#jinx#jinx arcane#vi#vi arcane#ms#arcane#arcane spoilers#ik someone probably already did this#but i had to#also both my internet and my photoshop are being so annoying today#this took too long#anyway i had to do it because im all about the sisters#and this is all about the sisters#this killed me
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The assumptions people are making on Veilguard bc ALL decisions won’t carry over are insane to me “OH so morrigan won’t mention her ONLY SON!! or her roMANCE??”. We have no idea what context or capacity she’s going to be in the game? In skyhold, she stayed at skyhold for a while, so it made sense to chat her up and ask about her life. Also Kieran was THERE bc he was TEN. Kieran is now in his twenties and most likely living his own life. If we’re saving the world and fighting darkspawn WHY would her grown ass son come up? Esp when she doesn’t even know Rook?? Like i would understand if we had veilguard in our hands and people were complaining bc Morrigan actually had dialogue invalidating their canon but for fuck’s sake the game isn’t even out yet. They’re saying it doesn’t matter as in it’s not gonna come up bc Rook is busy doing other shit, rather than quizzing characters who aren’t companions on their lives. “What about Varric”. Varric seems to have a pre-established relationship with Rook which means you can headcanon that they already had the talk about Varric’s life story considering he called them his “second in command”. Like cancel your preorders, preorder, do whatever you want no one on the internet is the boss of you. But oh my fucking god complaining about something you don’t even fully know about is already getting so old. Best case scenario, you’re right and i guess your bitching is validated yay for you ig. Worst case, you’re wrong and like wasted so much time and energy bitching for nothing. Like I completely understand being upset the choices don’t carry over, it IS disappointing! But we don’t even KNOW what it’s going to affect if anything at all. It’s just so funny how everyone was like “it’s not about the Inquisitor” and now that the focus is confirmed to be pretty much entirely on Rook and the inquistor’s choices barely seem to matter in game and half of everybody has lost the plot bc of it and we don’t even actually know how this will affect the game like ????
#i understand being mad#and you can do whatever you want about it#but holy shit is getting so annoying to hear about#i’m not even touching the solas stuff#i understand being upset that solas is a focal point if you don’t care for him#but it’s just ridiculous reiterating why he’s important to the storyline#lyriumsings txt#dragon age#discourse#i guess#i’m just ranting bc i’m so bored of hearing about this#everyone just keeps going more and more over the top with like what isn’t going to be referenced#like correct me if i’m wrong but all cameos from da2 and dao in inquisitor were either delivered thru dialogue#or delivered thru fucking letters#so like REALLy what’s missing with that??#and then yall COMPLAINED about that too!!???#‘hawke is ooc#‘my warden is ooc’#like i’m not surprised they shafted warden and hawke mentions and all prev decisions#no matter what they do yall harass these people as if they’re your personal punching bag for every gripe you have with dragon age#spoilers#anyway lemme focus on my movie im watching with my sister lmao
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